


Knucklebones

by Drusilla_951



Series: Rowena and Benedicta Trilogy [1]
Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon Dialogue, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fights, Forced Marriage, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Minor Character Death, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Political Alliances, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drusilla_951/pseuds/Drusilla_951
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowena’s “game” and its aftermath... Benedicta’s lies… What are the women in the AotB universe up to?<br/>A rewriting and follow-up of the “Rowena and Benedicta arc" (Second Season).<br/>The story is set between "<i>Rowena</i>" and "<i>The Girl from Rome</i>".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knucklebones - Part I

**Author's Note:**

> **I never could have written this story without the help and support of Trepkos, Beta Reader _extraordinaire_.**  
>  I don’t own any of the characters. Some dialogues are Terence Feely’s and David Osbourne’s.  
> Timeline for Part I: _’Rowena’, ‘Some Saxon Women’, ‘The Marriage Feast’_  
>  Timeline for Part II: _Rowena_ , _The Games_ , _The Treaty_.  
>  Timeline for Part III : Post- _The Treaty_.  
>  Timeline for Part IV and Epilogue: Set during and after ‘ _The Girl From Rome_ ’.

_Knucklebones, or Jacks, is a game of very ancient origin, played with usually five small objects, originally the "knucklebones" (actually the astragalus: a bone in the ankle, or hock) of a sheep, which are thrown up and caught in various ways. The winner is the first player to successfully complete a prescribed series of throws. (Source: Wikipedia)_

**Esyllt's Tale**

If only I had not taken it into my head to cook that piece of boar. We still had some berries left and, with the honey and a few herbs I won't tell about (cook's secret, you understand), I knew I could attempt the dressing the Greek trader's woman taught me. To sweeten a man's mood there is no better way than to fill his stomach with delicacies. There are other ways, too, but I wasn't about to teach that to Yorath's daughter. Especially when she finally decided to lend a hand to do the cooking for her father...

Rowena had been in a huff for several days: specifically, ever since Gareth rode into the camp, bearing news of Kai's failed wedding: to a girl called Goda, or so I was told.

That snake slithered under Kai's defences and almost brought about his downfall, along with that of all of Arthur's camp. If the tale’s true to life, only Kai's night itches and Arthur's foresight saved the day.

This chieftain sleeps with his eyes wide open, it seems. How they managed to round up the children, women and helpless ones, and hide them in the woods in so short a time, we'll never know. Arthur is close-mouthed, even with his allies, but his contingency plan was sound. As for the serpent, Kai crushed it.

Gareth thought it was a great laugh. Having Kai fail so obviously in his duties makes his regular feuding with Gawain pale in comparison. After a few more considerations, and a few more cups of wine, our visitor rose and completed his trading with Yorath: horses for shields. (The blacksmith in Gareth's camp is almost as good as Mordant, they boast.) What a fool Gareth is! While recounting his tale, he could not help sneaking glances at Rowena, but he did not notice how still and pale she had become. Did he want to awe her with his steadfastness and loyalty? It is true that for some months Gareth had found a truce of sorts with his cousin... Another circulating tale, not of his making this time, says that Arthur impressed on him the necessity of restraint... If he really did, Arthur is a military strategist worthy of the Caesars.

I wonder how it took so long for the narrative to reach us. It happened a while back, some months ago I believe. That kind of juicy gossip usually takes less time to spread.

Rowena is getting more beautiful every day, Yorath is not getting younger, and the suitors are swarming around her like flies on a honey pot. They know that Rowena will hold the leadership of the Jutes, but her consort will clasp the sword and shield for us all. As eager as was Rowena to learn a man's trade, she cannot lead warriors into battle. And battles there will be, if Yorath cannot conclude his peace with the Saxons, limiting them into their claimed territories and cementing the marches. Is Gareth trying his luck? Rowena’s lands and her looks make her an attractive bounty. And well she knows it.

Let’s not wander; back to the tale. As it was, as soon as Gareth left the longhouse with her father, Rowena stormed away, muttering furiously about men's stupidity, men's cocks and foolish risks. Her anger did not abate during the whole afternoon. She even tore her dress while ripping it off in exchange for breeches and a tunic, when she went for a ride.

Gone were the efforts I insist upon for prettifying her. Being an only child, and having lost her mother when she was ten, she lacked motherly attention. Not that the women weren't eager to help raising Yorath's heir. But being a little pixie of a child, slim and fit, Rowena managed to learn a lot of the skills the boys usually are taught. And Yorath liked to boast about her riding skills and her eye for horseflesh. I guess he managed for a long while to forget that she was a daughter and not a son. When it finally dawned on him, he had her betrothed to Hecla. Rowena didn’t like that at all.

*******

As to that, we all know how it turned out. Rowena's triumphant return, ensconced before that blond Saxon giant who was smirking down at us from his dark horse. Rowena laughing at her father's face when he came to see what the ruckus was about.

Arthur's controlled anger and explanation; Rowena ignoring him, not even bothering to thank her escort and ‘saviour’ when he helped her down, and majestically striding into the longhouse. (In my opinion, it would have been more effective if she had not tripped in the entrance.) Arthur's amused frown as his eyes followed her progress.

I couldn't but stare at Arthur. I may be merely one of Rowena's attendants, but I'm not blind. Even if I know my place, there is a lot to like here: smouldering eyes, luscious lips, long lean legs, perfectly proportioned body. As for Ardra, standing next to me, she was devouring Kai's figure with her gaze. As most of the women did, come to think of it... But looking isn't as pleasurable as touching, anyway.

I begrudged Rowena’s luck for she was closer to Kai than I would ever be: her thighs resting on his, her back nestled against his chest, she was cradled in his right arm, held in an unyielding grip. A bundle of her belongings was secured behind him. There was no sight of the mare she had ridden on her leaving.

The Saxon shifted her a little so she could dismount more easily, then Arthur’s hand supported her as she slid down. When Rowena strode away, I saw that it was not just Kai’s limbs that had responded to Rowena’s body heat.

Since then, Rowena has behaved quite strangely, even for a boy-girl like her.

At long last, she began to listen to our advice: she let her hair grow back, when before, when we complained about it, we were told that it was getting in her eyes when she was riding. She even chose fabrics for new dresses. True, the material does not cling prettily as it should, to emphasize her rounded breasts and hips, but it is a distinct improvement. Now, if I could just teach her how to walk in this length of cloth… (The girl cannot glide elegantly; she strides. It is most unbecoming in a princess.) She even claimed some of her mother's jewels and wore them. This prompted some quite interesting gossip, too. Who was she trying to impress?

*******

What about the dish? Oh, yes. Well, I cooked most of it. Rowena insisted on taking over, telling me that she must at long last learn to oversee the kitchen pots. I had to leave her to it, you see, her being a princess and all, and I being a lowly attendant. Even if we shared the same hearth at times, and she was almost like a kid sister to me, the difference in our station is still there.

The boar was charred in places, but the middle of the meat was still raw. I managed to take it to pieces and conceal the most offensive parts with the sauce, and more than made up for the deficiencies of the rest.

Yorath liked it. Very much. He had three helpings, gulped it down with some leftover Greek wine, burped, and was content. Then he demanded some more wine, while Rowena hovered over him, all softness and solicitude, filial love and flattering entreaties.

In the morning, when the priest came with ink pots and scrolls, and he and Rowena bickered about the wording so that no one would misconstrue it, I understood what she had been about. Yorath was so dazed that he signed it without anyone having to hold his hand.

That she-fox had managed to seize some of the best pasture lands, situated a few days ride from here, smack in the middle of the marches, between Yorath's territories and Mark of Cornwall's. Because of this strategic location, she would wield no little power of her own, helping to balance the alliance, while her father lived. And this land is added to her own riches: jewels, herds and all. She could stand on her own, and not be dependent on her father's whims.

All of this, added to her previous fit of coquetry, rekindled the gossip.

*******

Not long after, Rowena got embroiled in another of her bold games. All fired up by her winning move, and not at all awestruck by Yorath's grumbling and ill humour, she got up in arms to defend those five Saxon females. The women in the village were divided: some thought only of female kinship and approved her daring; others held that it was the fortunes of war and that those five slaves were better off the premises, being too pretty for their own good... and the Jute women’s marital concord.

Whatever our princess told Arthur, it worked. The leader of the Celts rode into our camp, all arrogance and demands, flanked by his two usual companions. Llud was just being Llud, not prone to spout empty words. While Arthur foolishly endangered his darling alliance for those five wenches' sake, arguing _Lex Iutae_ [Latin, meaning Law of the Jutes] and high morals, Kai was looking dubiously from his brother to our princess. Truly, one would have expected him to show more compassion for the females, those being of his own people. But that warrior is a puzzling one; he seems to walk both roads, not knowing where he is truly stepping. When you expect him to be a proper Celt warrior, he counters with a twist and a turn which leaves you wondering what goes on his mind. The smoother ones are not always the more transparent.

When all was done, the wine drawn, the Greek trader gone, and the girls freed from their bonds, Rowena took herself to the entrance of the village. It was a sunny day, and I happened to be lying on the grass, not very far away, drowsing a little. My daily chores were over and done with. A girl is entitled to some repose, don't you think? So what I'm telling you now is first-hand account, not hearsay.

Our princeling really fidgeted. She seemed uneasy, swinging from one foot to the other: kicking pebbles while she waited. At long last, they drew level. Arthur dismounted, and Rowena froze. Kai and Llud tactfully rode on, not very successfully hiding their smiles. The blond one bowed his head and whispered something to his elder, who laughed aloud. Kai moved his horse around, though, in order to keep the couple in his sight. He seemed to find the display fascinating. So did I.

Meanwhile Rowena was humbling herself before Arthur: no mean feat for such a proud one. She was shaking from the effort.

This is when it dawned on me, the great love that the girl must feel for Arthur; the true reason for her late preening and attempts at women's arts; the unconscious softening of her voice when she spoke of how Arthur treated her while on their journey to Hecla's. This reluctant admiration she could not hide.

Rowena kept her face lowered all the while. Arthur's revealed nothing but a rooster's conceit and over-confidence. In truth, the man's blessed with a fine body and a finer mind. But does he know it! Is that why he remains out of reach like a Vestal priestess guards her maidenhood? Kai's exploits under the skins are the makings of legends, but – apart from some occasional lapses – Arthur's are a more guarded secret than his military defences. No one can boast of knowing either his body or his mind – not even Mark of Cornwall, even if he states the contrary.

But the tenderness and care Arthur showed when he let himself be drawn into Rowena's embrace, the relaxing of his mouth as she snuggled against him, and the brief closing of his eyes when she slid her hands into his dark locks, were telling otherwise. Could Rowena prevail?

*******

So it was a considerable shock when I heard that Rowena was determined to marry Mark of Cornwall.

Mark of Cornwall! If anyone can be likened to a wild boar, it is he. That brutal drunkard takes what he wants without compunction or superfluous feelings. He is a king, he states, and has the right of conquest and of might. Often he has clashed with his neighbours for an imaginary wrong or offense, putting his warriors into battle order before pondering the consequences. Bull-headed, choleric, cunning, he is not a man to cross. However, his alliance with Arthur has mellowed him somewhat; nowadays he hesitates before striking his own kind, and holds his peace with his fellow Celts with some grumbling. But his foes and friends alike still find him unbending; often cruel and unmanageable.

 _That_ man was to be Rowena’s choice? She was to bear him children and take care of his hearth?

We really tried. God knows, we _did_ try to wheedle Rowena into telling us her reasons. The girl, nay, … that blasted woman didn’t utter more than “I shall marry Mark in two moons’ time. See to that.” And she swept out of the room.

Even Yorath could not unbend that obstinate resolve. All were left in the dark. Speculation was rife.

We pleaded with her: was Hecla not enough? Didn’t she exult in her release from that vow at the time? Was she so eager to bind her whole self, body and soul, to a man’s will, when she had known only freedom and leniency on that part? She had escaped from a state marriage; did she want to conclude another so soon? Was Yorath such a tyrant that she would resort to such desperate measures to escape his clutches?

Ardra shrewdly intimated that Rowena had been disappointed in love. The princess overheard, and, in fit of temper, ordered Ardra to go back to her sewing, with such a look of such repressed fury that the girl lowered her sight to her idle hands and went on stitching.

But I had some idea of Rowena’s game. A daring game. A gamble worthy of a princess. The first draw of a high-stakes game of Knucklebones.

*******

I was placing apples in a dish when Arthur entered Mark’s longhut on Rowena’s heels. She nodded to me. Reluctantly, I went out. But I didn’t go very far. Not so far that I couldn’t overhear what was going on inside. I deliberately dropped the apple I still held. It rolled away and I bent to recover it. And I took my time to find it.

The voices were muffled at first.

_“… to see you at my wedding.”_

That was Rowena. Cool as winter frost, that one. But would she fool him?

_“What sort of a game is this you’re playing? The man’s a pig.”_

As if Rowena didn’t know. Come on, Arthur, you couldn’t see the truth even if it hit you in the face! Let’s see some action there.

_“… ve can do strange things, …. wild bears.”_

_“Love? He’s after your land, woman.”_

Wrong move, my lord. Really, you don’t know anything about women, do you?

Now Rowena’s spitting feathers. What will be her next line of attack?

I soon found out. Arthur bolted out in a hurry, amid a volley of smashed cooking pots and apples. On his undignified exit, Arthur encountered a very self-satisfied Mark. Their exchange did not mend matters.

_“You don’t want her.”_

_“You know that, and I know that. But she won’t know until she is married.”_

I shivered.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

 _“I just don’t like to see you making a fool of yourself.” “Yorath will put more of his men to stop the Saxons entering through his territory and in return, I will stop Mark laying his hands on your land.”_ The words went round and round in my fevered brain.

I’ve never been so insulted in my life. I want to wipe that supercilious smile off his face. I want to boil him in oil. Really, I will. How dare he come in here, swaggering as if Mark’s longhut belonged to him, speaking of treaties and honour? Because he tricked the Celtic chieftains into an alliance, does he believe that all their territories, women and goods belong to him? That _I_ , Rowena, princess of the Jutes, belong to him?

Not so. Not so easily.

I still haven’t forgiven him for his late deception. Not really. Did he have to scare me like that, letting me believe that he would let my father kill those poor women? So Arthur tried to teach me a lesson, eh? Let him learn one at his turn.

Esyllt and Ardra are looking at everything but me. Poor girls! They still don’t understand what I’m doing here. I don’t realize it quite myself, to be honest. This has just got out of hand, growing and taking on a life of its own, until there is no way out – no turning back.

I told Arthur I was born to be a Queen. I am.

I lied. And I did not.

He thought then “glory and honour, lineage and power”. I thought “respect and love, companionship and tenderness”. Laughter and sharing. Passion and understanding. Things I know I can’t expect from Mark – but neither do they come naturally to Arthur.

So I tried to tempt Fate. She’s a fickle goddess, she always was, but ‘tis better to dare her than to end up on the shelf, with discarded kitchen pots and rags – or be bartered away for another uneasy alliance by my father.

Of the celibate chiefs still eligible, there were only Dunstan, Mark’s nephew, Hereward and Aelius who suited my purpose. And Mark. Mark was the perfect candidate. After all, he’s a king. Besides, he has obviously changed for the better since he came for trading last winter; where once he roared, he now simpers. Where he demanded, now he only asks. He even paid me compliments of a sort, enjoying his own feeble witticisms.

And if my gamble fails, at least, I won’t have _him_ under my sight, so close and utterly unavailable. Like an itch one cannot scratch. _This_ would be a fate worse than death. I don’t want, I _cannot_ think of the rest.

*******

**Esyllt's Tale**

The clash of metal against metal drew us out. In her haste to leave the hut faster, Ardra even dropped Rowena’s festive cloak. She always was the gossipy one, eager to be on the spot. 

Arthur was – not very successfully, I must concede – parrying Mark’s infuriated moves. Only his speed had protected him thus far. Slowly but irrevocably, the young warrior was stepping back before the assault. People were gathering, seeming as flabbergasted as I felt. From the corner of my eye, I saw Llud standing aside; the man frowned uneasily, as did the younger one speaking in his ear.

That it would come to this, and on the wedding day! It should have happened the night before, when Arthur announced to the whole gathering that Rowena had spent “long, long nights” in his company.

Was it even true? I asked; she wouldn’t tell.

I gathered the story from Rowena herself in the middle of the night. Her eyes blotched carmine by desperate tears, she angrily recounted me what had gone on a few hours before in the feast hall.

The story took a long time to tell, between sniffs and more weeping. When she had done, I was almost as mad as she was. That stupid stuck-up, vile, abhorrent male _pig_ had all but said that Rowena had yielded to him: not once, but several times. That she was damaged goods in the marriage market, and that any man who married her would have good cause to wonder about the legitimacy of his first offspring.

Worse, he had thus underlined the unbecoming haste of this wedding, and the unpalatable fact that he, Arthur, had not been eager to claim her as his bride, after using her. People would count the months, in anticipation of the delivery of Rowena’s first child.

Unless he really wanted her for himself, Rowena was utterly ruined.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

“It’s two days ride back to your father’s. We’ll discuss it on the way.”

Arthur smiled at me then. It was such a glorious smile that I couldn’t but respond. Truly he has the most beautiful smile. It lights up all his face, smoothing away the lines of care that begin to creep around his eyes. Not that he is anything but beautiful – but he keeps himself so remote from us poor humans that one is always surprised when the shell cracks a little, and the sunshine of that smile shows through.

We went leisurely. There was no reason for haste now, and I welcomed the slow pace. In fact, I didn’t want to go back home, even though I knew I had to. I wondered how my father would react. With relief, I supposed, for not having Mark for a son-in-law. If he felt the same sense of reprieve I was feeling, it would be great indeed.

Images I did not want to remember came flooding back into my mind, and I shuddered: Mark’s hands on me; Mark trying to kiss me and mocking my maidenly coyness. This very night, if Arthur had not intervened, I would have had to submit to him. _You made your bed, now lie in it_ , this is the saying. I would not have liked to lie in that one: especially not on my back.

In Mark’s village, Esyllt and Ardra would be gathering my belongings into my chests, ready for departure. They’d come back on their own, with my escort. I could not wait for them; Arthur insisted we hurry back together, saying Mark’s temper made it advisable not to overstay our welcome. I just had time to grab a cloak and not much else, before I mounted my mare and left the village. People averted their face so they would not see me leave. Mark’s absence was conspicuous.

Perhaps Arthur _did_ want to talk with me.

But he was mostly silent, staring straight ahead of him, with a faint smile on his lips. A few months ago, I would have done anything to find myself alone with him like this, for two long days and a… long long night? Now, it was not so. Try as I may, I couldn’t resurrect the awe and lust I once felt, or believed I felt, for him.

There was only Kai in my heart. And misery.

*******

By the time we camped for the night, I was a bundle of nerves, and I was at my snapping worst. Arthur shrugged off my half-hearted attempts at conversation, so I didn’t open my mouth except to swallow some bread and ale. He is the quiet one; he was used to that silence. Or was he still pondering what he would tell me?

When we had cleared the food, Arthur lay back with a sigh, spreading his legs on his cloak. Propped on his elbow, stretched before the fire, he seemed the picture of ease. But I knew better. The flames turned his face into a grotesque mask, the shifting shadows making his eyes harder to read. I gathered my skirts and sat cross-legged, on the other side, hugging myself. The moment of truth had finally come.

“Foolish Girl! What was it all about?” Arthur’s tone was curiously sympathetic. Gone were the irony and the tension. At least, he didn’t sound like an exasperated lover. I began to breathe more easily.

“I can’t tell you.” I was not lying, for once. What a welcome change it was!

“Can’t you?”

“No.” 

A long silence followed. It stretched into infinity. Arthur waited, as still as a statue.

Unsaid words pressing upon my tongue, I heard myself reply, “It’s none of your concern what I do and why. You won the game – that should suffice. Why did you intervene?”

“I told you. I made a pact with your father.”

“I don’t believe you.” Outrage breached the wall of ice that I had built around me. Urgently, I tried another tack, “How did you know?”

“Kai told me.”

“Kai? Kai _told_ you!!...”

My heart sank into a deep pit. _He_ had known and not cared a rotten apple about my fate. My marriage was merely interesting news, to be brought to Arthur, commented upon. I had been a fool to believe that his arousal had been more than an involuntary reflex; that his embrace had more meaning than a casual flirting with every woman under thirty, be she brunette or fair, Celt or Jute, or even Saxon. My fretful imaginings had turned what was an unintentional connection into some sort of attraction. My own desire had falsely transformed a brush-up into some budding affection.

Arthur was looking at me in the strangest way. Was it because my eyes were overflowing? I could not crack now, I couldn’t! I drew back a little so my face would be in shadow.

“Rowena, what does it matter, anyway?” He bent to stir the fire. “Just like a woman to focus on such trifles…” Then he looked earnestly into my face. “You realize, don’t you, what a difficult position you’ve put me in?”

“Put _you_ …,” I spluttered. “You… you… _You_ came and devised all this. _You_ told all these lies. _You_ fix it!” I was beginning to cry in earnest. I hated this. I hated him. I hated this weakness of mine. I never cried.

Arthur got up, crossed the space between us in three strides, and sat close to me. When I tried to fend off his embrace, he merely pulled me harder into his arms. He smelled of leather, wool and his own masculine odour. Whatever his faults, somehow it meant security and caring. I unwillingly relaxed. Arthur’s hands were patting my back. _No, not like a lover at all._

An awful heaviness pressed on my soul, stifling my tongue. I felt as if a fog-like weight engulfed me, seeping into my heart. What was the use of arguing? What was the use of anything now?

“Whatever is the matter? Tell me… Haven’t we been good friends?” We had. I acquiesced.

Little by little, by dint of questions and silence, he unravelled most of the truth.

How I had hoped that _someone_ would be interested in me: Rowena. Not the daughter of the King. Just poor simple me. How I had tried to beautify myself, because _he_ liked his women pretty. How I had met him again and again, and still he didn’t seem to see me. How I had contrived to be mistress of my own lands so it would not be said that he wanted me for being heiress to Yorath. That he should prove his worth to all, without question.

How I got desperate and gambled it all. How I had hoped that he would come, learning of it first-hand, and deliver me from Mark, hereby ensuring Yorath’s consent. After Mark, Father would give his approval to anyone. Arthur wryly smiled at that.

“Is he so objectionable, this love of yours, that you cannot tell me his name?” Arthur asked. I almost burst out laughing and crying simultaneously. _If he only knew…_

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I laid my head on my knees. I felt so tired I wanted to go to sleep right there in Arthur’s arms. “Anyway, it’s of no importance now. He doesn’t love me.” A new thought struck me. “For someone who’s so interested in my welfare, Arthur, you don’t seem so torn learning that I’m in love with…” I swallowed the name – “someone else.”

He let go of me, got up and added some twigs to the fire. “No, I’m not. Truth to tell, there was never any talk of marriage between us. You know that.”

I knew it well. Even when I had followed Arthur everywhere like a love-sick puppy in a fit of a temporary insanity, I had known of his reluctance to involve himself with any woman.

“Well… What I can say? I’m not sure I really want to get married. Not to anyone. Not now, anyhow.” He sat back on the other side of the fire.

“Not ever?”

He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Because I am the leader of the Celts, must I so quickly sire sons to follow my steps? One can choose an heir, you know. Llud did.”

I looked at him searchingly. “Have you ever been in love, Arthur?”

Arthur’s head went up. His gaze followed the path of the moon; it was gliding soundlessly in a starlit sky. The clouds had come and gone.

It would be a beautiful night for lovers to cuddle together.

Was I too daring? The stillness of the night, our shared solitude gathered round the fire created a new bond between us. It was stripping us of our old roles, allowing us to bare our souls like we never had before. At least, I strongly felt this tie between us, binding us in a new comradeship. Did he feel it too?

Perhaps he did. He answered, as in a reverie: “Yes … I have. The yearning, the longing, the madness, the loss of …” Echoes of past pain stirred in his tone. He shrugged. “It’s over with, now. God willing!” His right hand played with the border of his cloak, wrinkling the wool. “I do know what love is. What loss is, too. There are several kinds of love, Rowena. One has to choose well. Are you sure of your heart?”

I nodded. “Do we ever have a choice?”

“Know then that I do love you, but not as a husband should. I care for you, but I’m not in love in you. My heart is silent on this, all that matters are my people, their safety, and my family’s.”

“I know.” I felt fresh tears coming. I wiped them with my sleeve. “Is that why you came?”

“Yes. I told you before. I could not let you lower yourself by marrying Mark. And regret it every day of your life. What kind of a friend would that make me?” A pause. Then, “And your Father must now close the gaps in our defences.”

I snorted. “You _would_ stick to that, don’t you?”

Suddenly I yawned. It had been a long eventful day. I had not realized how drained I felt. I lowered myself to the ground and gathered the folds of my cloak closer around me. “I guess I’ll sleep now. Wake me up for the vigil.”

“I will.” Arthur bent over me and put his hand over mine; his eyes were sparkling in the moonlight, as deep as the night sky. “Will you ever forgive me for spoiling your plan and riding to the rescue instead of K… another?”

He _knew_. Holy Mother, he _knew_.

And I knew then that I _really_ had ruined my own life. What now?

*******

**Arthur’s Tale**

Rowena slept like the dead. The poor girl had had quite a fright. I couldn’t actually pity her plight; she had brought it on her own head. Still, she could count her blessings. If I had not pricked Mark’s hide and made him lose his temper, she would be spread out in his bed right now.

It was a near thing, though. I almost miscalculated.

Llud would be home by now, sharing tales, jokes and mead with Kai. I wondered what he told him. That I was head over heels in love with Rowena, and denying it? It would be hard work to get rid of this nonsense. People preferred flights of fancy over hard fact: a most stupid and constant human trait. But time would put all that to rest.

And what of Kai? Another unforeseen problem. It would have to be managed in a roundabout way. This brother of mine was too stubborn for his own good. I’d have to contrive something.

Still, it was good to know that Rowena had got over her love sickness for me. Whatever the cost, I would not and will not offer for her. I will _not_ take a wife, when my heart isn’t in it.

Later, perhaps, when the Saxons are driven back to their lands… Later. When I have time to think of other things than strategies and deceit, hosts and treaties. Later, when I can rest without looking behind my back, making sure my shield is secure; when I can sleep without clutching a dagger; make love without shielding my heart.

Who are you trying to fool, Arthur? You don’t want to fall in love ever again. It’s as simple as that. Lust, yes. Love, no. Sheltering your heart and soul like a fortified village, for all the good it did you that last time… Anyway, love is a commodity I don’t have time for.

That cursed girl nearly did it this time. I wish she wouldn’t go off like that, like an untamed mare, without thinking of the consequences. I cannot let her endanger it all. Not again. Still, Kai shall tame her. If anyone can do it, he’s the man.

I’d have to do some quick talking to Yorath when we get there. And try to salvage my treaty with Mark. Only time will tell. I hope our common threat will mend it; Mark is a realist. And he needs my strength as much as I need his.

Kai… Who could have guessed it? _I_ didn’t.

Llud will laugh his head off about that one. But I won’t tell Kai. It is said revenge is the mark of petty men, but I won’t pass that one up. Besides, it might be fun.

*******

**Esyllt's Tale**

We arrived home a few hours after the princess and her unacknowledged lover, too late to see what welcome Yorath gave his daughter.

Common report says that Rowena rode into the village with her head held high. Arthur was bringing up the rear, with that strange little smile of his. I expected to hear of their betrothal, but no such proclamation was made. Curiously enough, Rowena didn’t seem to mind. She treated Arthur with friendly courtesy, and he treated her with brotherly politeness. You know the kind; merely a truce that never lasts long, before the next teasing and bickering.

Arthur disappeared into the longhut with Yorath for a very long time. When both men emerged, there were smiles on their faces, and a lot of slapping on the shoulder. Yorath insisted that Arthur stay at least one night. The Celtic leader accepted. The feasting and revelling went on far into the early hours.

Arthur spent the last of the night with Ardra. She had made sure she was the one replenishing his cup; each time she came close to him, the shameless woman pressed her breasts against his back. 

He didn’t seem to mind.

Such an obvious move should have infuriated Rowena, but she obviously didn’t care. Our princess had changed into her old attire: washed out blue tunic embroidered at the neck, brown breeches. She looked like a colt freed from the bridle able to gambol at leisure, free at last. And she was not the last to make merry, even if it seemed a little forced.

Arthur never left her side at the banquet, until she went to her bed … alone.

He was seated at the place of honour, and Yorath kept smiling more and more, his grins growing bigger as his cup was emptying faster. Obviously there were no broken promises, and no hard feelings between the two. What did they talk about?

Boldly, I asked Ardra about it the following morning. I did not get much information. True, she rhapsodised about her lover’s skills and eagerness, but did not let me know of anything of import.

Being an attendant is hard work; we stand on the side line and see pieces of the action. But we don’t take part in it. Not really.

*******

**Kai’s Tale**

Arthur came back two days later than we expected him. I was cleaning my short sword when he came into the long hut. Earlier in the day we had stopped ten raiding Saxons, too dumb to know they should have fled at the first sight of us. Their spoils were piled up in the great room. Arthur turned a sack over with his foot. Some grain spilled from the opening.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Got them from the Saxons. The last one was so busy running that he dropped all his loot. There’s some silver, too.”

“Ah.” Arthur took off his cloak and carefully put it away. His face was grey with fatigue, but his eyes were lit by an unholy lightness. He dropped onto a stool as if dog-tired.

“No damage?”

“None that really counts. Conyn’s arm was grazed. A scratch – nothing to worry about.” 

“Good.” He stretched his arm, took the pitcher and poured himself a cup of mead. “God, I’m thirsty.”

“Want to eat?”

“No. I caught a rabbit this morning. I can wait.”

I seated myself in front of him. With a closer look, his face wasn’t grey, it was livid. From lack of sleep? He wore the face of a man who had enjoyed himself to the detriment of slumber.

“So. No marriage?”

“Mark’s? No. Didn’t Llud tell you all about it?” He stared at me, his eyes piercing.

I wondered at the unease that came creeping up my back. “Want a refill?” I said instead.

“What, ply me with mead and hope to get the full story? I’m not that susceptible, you know.”

“Arthur, our leader without weaknesses.” I raised my cup to him.

“Well, I have a few, as you well know…”

No use dwelling on that now. It would not get me the reaction I hoped for. “So, Rowena. You did take her back to Yorath? He must have been mighty pleased with you.”

“Yes to both.” Arthur stretched.

His stare made me uncomfortable; I wondered why.

“And before you ask for it, no, I’m not about to marry Rowena.” 

“That’s awkward.”

“Not really. Yorath didn’t expect me to. All’s fair in love and war. This was war of a sort. He cannot let Mark be too powerful in the West. Neither can I.”

“And Rowena? I hope she expressed her thanks in a suitable fashion.” I snatched another cup and began to fill it. Anything to escape that sharp gaze.

“She did.”

“Oh.” This was new. It was not like Arthur to boast. The man usually thought with his mind not with his cock, like I sometimes do; but this was going a little too far, too fast.

“We had ample time. Two days and one night.”

He looked very smug. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I wanted to wipe that grin off his face. With a sword, if need be. “And still, you would not want her.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’d rather face my foes in a battlefield than in my own bed. She’s not the wife for me.”

“Does she know this?” 

“She does.”

That must have been a hell of an argument. I pictured tears, howls and all the trappings women usually fetch in that case. Hell’s teeth, I’ve had my share. They cling like vines, and weep like brooks. “Doesn’t she mind?”

“Not at all.” 

He seemed real pleased with himself.

This was Arthur at his most annoying worst, parrying each sentence as if it were life or death; giving nothing away. Still, his anger and frustration were real when he first heard the news. _Gambling is knowing something the other fellow doesn’t._ Why did this spring into my head? 

I let it go. “Perfect. In that case, I’ll leave you to your riddles. I’ve got work to do.” I picked up the sword and the rag I used to clean it with, and turned to the door. I met Llud in the doorway.

“No marriage,” I told my foster father.

A flicker of surprise was the first response I got. He went on, smoothly, “No need to pack our gear and go elsewhere, then. Good for us.” 

Trust Llud to wait for the right moment to probe deeper.

Before retreating in good order, I let go a parting shot. “Better for Rowena. She deserves a man of flesh and blood, not one carved out of stone.”

I shrugged nonchalantly, but in any case, the shot went wide. Arthur, looking every inch the innocent, was eyeing my withdrawal with a poorly concealed glee. _Something the other fellow doesn’t know._

I knew then, that I had stumbled into a deeper pit than I could have imagined possible.

**_Finis_ (Part I)**

  
**Notes for Part I**

Essyllt (or Esyllt or Iseult, Yseult, or Isolde) is, of course, the name of the Irish princess who married the King of Corwall and had an affair with Tristram/Tristan. (This was merely a harmless tongue-in-cheek joke.)

“Kai's failed wedding…” : in _Enemies and Lovers_ (S1 E9)

“Having Kai fail so obviously in his duties makes his regular feuding with Gawain pale in comparison…” : _The Challenge_ (S1 E3)

“Rowena got up in arms to defend those five Saxon females”…: in _Some Saxon Women_ (S2 E4)

“ _Gambling is knowing something the other fellow doesn’t._ ” : As Arthur said to Kai at the end of _The Duel_ (S1 E6)


	2. Knucklebones - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: _Rowena_ , _The Games_ , _The Treaty._

**Rowena’s Tale**

I wish I could say that the sneaky looks and the ironic smiles, which I was not supposed to be aware of, stopped after a few days – but they didn’t. Neither did the women’s fascination with my belly, which stayed as flat as it ever was, to their deep disappointment.

Some of them even tried to needle me, letting me know that Ardra has succeeded in seducing Arthur. That they had shared the same bed was a known fact, and I really didn’t begrudge him his pleasures. He was entitled to them, and anyway, it was not my concern. Had he joined Ardra under the furs to make known he wasn’t interested in me? If so, they were well-matched, using each other for different purposes: he, for his politics; she, for her lust.

After a while the hints died down, and everything went back to normal.

I ostentatiously busied myself: I learned to cook – Esyllt had confessed her culinary deception and we chortled about it. I found new ways to dress my hair –not that it was growing fast, mind you! I learned to weave and sew.

I took time to teach the other girls to swim: a skill that comes in handy and in a hot summer, it is very refreshing. We had bribed Ailidh’s elder to keep watch near the stream so we wouldn’t be disturbed. I know he peeked a little, but it was more flattering than annoying. The boy was only fourteen, and was entitled to some curiosity; as long as he didn’t tell his friends, he was no real bother…

I also spent more time with the elders, listening to their tales of deeds long past, battles long fought, erstwhile pacts and commercial treaties, customs and laws. They were flattered by my consideration and their tongues loosened. I would rather not depend on anyone to advise me when the time comes, without the benefit of their experience. Being a woman, it was not easy to have them take my questions seriously. The first who did was Alaois. He remembered my mother when she was my age, and her beauty still echoed in his memory; this helped. She had been a shrewd negotiator, and had backed up Yorath’s obstinacy with acumen and diplomacy: virtues my father occasionally lacked. Yorath didn’t suspect what I was about, believing that I would one day end up marrying a Jute warrior, who would owe all to him, and be under his thumb. 

I still hoped otherwise.

The daily tasks gave me no time to dwell on my heartache. When the hurt was too great, I pushed it back where it belonged, in the deepest recesses of my mind. And if I sometimes tossed and turned in the night, swallowing my bile as I pictured Kai making love with a faceless woman; trying to imagine, instead, the feel of his hands on my skin, and his mouth on mine, and ending the night soaked with sweat, and all tangled in my sheepskins – no one was the wiser.

*******

The first time I ever saw him – one of Arthur’s men who came to take back their own – I thought Kai was so beautiful, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I escaped from Hecla’s grasp and advanced hopefully toward the Celts.

In a few moments, it was all over. I would have no need to fear marrying Hecla, for Hecla was no more. Arthur’s warriors bundled up their stolen goods, and off we went.

Without dismounting, Arthur reached down and grabbed me by the waist, pulling me to him. I was so annoyed by his presumption that I wriggled. He let me go. The man whom I would later know as Kai, chuckled.

“And you survived the journey with this lioness on a lead? I’m impressed.”

Arthur shot him a look of mock-outrage that didn’t stop Kai’s mirth.

“You take her, if you want. I won’t fight you for the privilege.”

Before I had time to react, the blond warrior headed for me and hoisted me up to ride in front of him. I clutched at his horse’s mane.

“Hang on!” he told me.

“I was astride a horse before I learned to walk!” I indignantly replied.

“Hmmm!” He exchanged amused looks with Arthur that spoke volumes. “I see what you mean!”

I silently fumed.

An attendant wordlessly passed my belongings up to Kai. He strapped the bundle to his saddle, and we were off.

We all rode —warriors, goods and all— until we reached Arthur’s territory. There we parted; Llud and the Celts to Arthur’s village, Arthur, Kai and me, to Yorath’s. Happiness for my recovered freedom warred with indignation in my breast: surely these arrogant males could treat me with the respect I deserved! Arthur mostly ignored me and Kai didn’t openly acknowledge me more than he had to.

It was a long, silent ride for home. I had time to commit all to memory.

By the afternoon, I had learned the feel of Kai’s body. My head was resting on his chest, one of his arms was about me and he clasped me so tightly that I could hardly breathe. I was still wearing my wedding dress and the cloth was rucked up almost to the middle of my thighs. Every gesture I made to pull it back met with failure, as the constant rubbing of my body against Kai’s made this impossible. I kept as dignified a silence as I could in these undignified circumstances.

As the day dragged by, I felt more and more sleepy; while I’d been fighting Arthur, a handful of Saxons and Hecla, I had shaken off exhaustion, but now, the need for alertness was gone. Without willing to, I slowly leaned into Kai’s arms, knowing myself safe at last.

I hadn’t been in such intimate contact with a man since I was a little girl, being kissed and embraced by my father. I could feel every contracting in Kai’s thighs, every slight flexing of his muscles, and every touch of his fingers. His warm breath caressed my neck. He held me in such a way that I almost breathed with him. This closeness was frightening and exhilarating. It moved me in a way I never dreamed I would ever feel. It seemed so natural, so true, that for a moment I could not sense where I began and where he ended. I shivered.

Kai seized his cloak and spread it around the both of us, shielding us from the outside world.

*******

I did not really expect a visit from Arthur, at least, not in the immediate future. The pact he made with Father was strong and firm; no threat was coming from the Saxons. And the Celts had begun to breed their horses. Surely this would give me a pretext to visit Arthur’s camp in my turn, with a stallion or brood mare to augment his stock. We would all benefit from the bargain.

Surely Arthur hadn’t betrayed my feelings to Kai? I would not survive the humiliation if he had.

He had not. I was sure of that, when next we met. This was when the Games were held.

I knew Mark of Cornwall would be there and I did not relish meeting him. Yet it would not be as burdensome as running into Arthur and Kai. Perhaps I could find some solace in the sagacity of Llud: he who never judged others before hearing them speak their mind. I would have to walk a fine line between his two ‘sons’.

Mark was duly insulting when he met the Jute party. Curiously, I wasn’t the butt of his jeers, but Trederne was.

Arthur’s behaviour was shoddier. He took me for a stroll, then tried to seduce me! The night was clear and sweet, he told me; I would like the stillness and the quiet. We stopped by the bridge.

This was not even a genuine effort, as I’m sure Arthur can do better when need arises. It infuriated me; I’d already told him I was in love with Kai. All the same, even as my fury mounted, I let him shower feathery kisses along my jaw. Women are strange creatures, aren’t they?

But he wasn’t interested in me, or in my affairs of the heart, for he hadn’t drawn me apart to tell me about Kai, as I had foolishly believed. He seemed to have forgotten all about it, focused as he was on his own ends, and trying to get me to do some snooping for him!

All the while, I kept hoping that Kai would walk by, searching for Arthur and wondering why he didn’t take his well-deserved rest. Or Llud, for that matter; _he_ would surely mention seeing us together in Kai’s hearing. Jealousy was the best lever I could hope for to shift that rock-like indifference.

No one came. So I took a step back and threw at Arthur: “I hope it’s to break your neck.”

Perhaps, on the morrow, he would suffer a tumble from his horse in front of everyone, and soil his pretty breeches.

Perhaps he would even fall in front of Mark: that would increase the irony, and make me happier still.

*******

Unfortunately I had to reconsider my refusal.

Ever since he has realized that I was part of that frailer breed – womankind – my father’s not been big on fatherly advice and political talk. This was the night for wonders; he talked to me as if I were a human being.

I obeyed him. How could I let spite get in the way of peace? Even if the peacemaker was a despicable prig, concord wasn’t to be trampled upon and destroyed so easily.

I set to work. 

Barth was easy prey. The man was so predictable that he was quite boring in his eagerness to please. But he was wary; he did not want it to be said that he succeeded when his leader had failed. So he kept it charming and light and easy; and fairly uninformative.

My next quarry was K… Arthur. I found him in his longhut, discarding strategies, one after the other. He doubted, then, that I would do his bidding.

I beheld Kai, sitting by the fire, close to Llud. He looked magnificent in a mauve tunic. Who had made it for him? Was it a gift from someone he cared about? I did my utmost not to catch his eyes, but sneaked glances when I could. This was how sure I was of my poise.

I kept my story short. I didn’t know that much, anyway. Yet, I knew enough to warn, and more than enough to triumph over that dark stranger towering over me. I felt cold, whether from that thought, or from the evening dampness creeping into the hut, I don’t know. I stepped closer to the fire, and put my hands over it to warm them.

Arthur would not relent. “How did you find this out?”

What was he thinking? Did he really believe that I would go to that length? After what I had previously done, perhaps he did.

I answered him evasively, “You have your information.”

“From whom? Mark?”

Arthur’s manner was so sharp that even Kai’s attention was arrested. He was following our exchange with a puzzled frown, playing with the handle of his weapon.

There was no way I would yield under Arthur’s determination. “It could be,” I retorted.

“… Or was it that young warrior of Mark’s I saw you walking with?”

Kai looked dumbfounded. He was still jiggling his axe. Llud leaned back and thought his own thoughts: they looked auspicious, from the humorous glint in his eyes. At least one of us was finding this evening enjoyable.

“Perhaps,” I answered.

“How? How did you find it out? What did you have to do to get this information? I _demand_ to know!” 

He was shouting. But Arthur never yelled, except on the battlefield, they said. He grabbed my arm, bruising me. 

I shook myself free, and stood my ground. “Demand from your soldiers. From me, you can only _ask_.” 

This calmed him somewhat. Behind his back, Kai had risen from the bench, so intent was he on our altercation. Llud was now watching his elder son with some disbelief. He had cause to; Kai was clutching his axe. Llud placed his silver hand on Kai’s wrist, and Kai reluctantly sat down again.

“Very well. I’ll ask you. Will you tell me where you got this information?”

At last, I had got Arthur where I wanted him. Very articulately, I said, “No,” and strode out.

Arthur didn’t pursue me; a small victory, perhaps, but every one counted.

*******

**Arthur’s Tale**

“Come back at once!” I enjoined her backside.

I knew that difficult girl wouldn’t. But she wasn’t so far away she wouldn’t hear me. Any husband of hers would have his hands full, making her obey his commands. An everlasting battle, no doubt, and not one I was eager to plan.

When I came back into the room, there was a fleeting glance between Llud and Kai. What had I missed? I was so focused on Rowena that I had not had a chance to watch their reaction to my play-acting.

Llud tentatively said, “Perhaps it was only her quick tongue that managed to wheedle the information.”

I smiled. I knew that all along. 

“Certainly it was. But I couldn’t spoil her moment of triumph, could I?” _And I could not pass up a chance at hurling another challenge at Kai._

We shared the joke, but Kai was still pensive. It was all to the good.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

One should not barter with Fate. 

Arthur fell off his horse in the contest he was about to win. Meryn, one of Mark’s men, took off his cloak just as Arthur’s steed was passing him by. The result was predictable. A muddied Arthur got to his feet, spoke of “honest fellow’s cloak” and sauntered off, very pleased with himself. 

I nearly had a fit of the giggles at Mark’s puzzlement and Arthur’s making do with what he could not forestall. How long he could rein on that fiery temper of his, I didn’t know. Kai’s face lengthened as the day went on. Even Llud had begun to chafe.

The night brought release from the tension, as well as the utter failure of Herrick’s schemes and another wrestling victory for Mark. Arthur had obviously taken his double-game gracefully; he offered his hospitality to the king of Cornwall and his men – an honour given to the ostensible winner of the Games, without doubt.

I was about to retire for the night when Arthur came to me, and sweetly asked me for a moment of my time. I hoped he would apologize, so I accepted.

I waited for him near the bridge, a little away from the bustle in the village. On each side of the longhut, torches were flickering in the wind, casting moving shadows on Arthur’s banner.

Sooner than I expected, he emerged from the dark. I looked at him expectantly. After what I had done for him, securing the alliance, surely he would show a little kindness? He drew nearer, but didn’t speak at all: as he bowed his head to kiss me, a distant call echoed in the yard, “Arthur!”

Kai’s voice; I had never heard him speak to his brother in that peremptory fashion before.

Arthur’s lips didn’t even brush against mine. He straightened, looked behind him, oh so slowly, as if I still held him in my thrall, saw that Kai was waiting a few feet away, and entreated me, “Will you stay a little while longer? There’s a man in the long hut I’ve got to see. One of Mark’s men. I promised to teach him how to put on his cloak without frightening my horse, and there are others…” 

His words were drowning in the gulf of my mind. Kai’s face was floating before my eyes; his hair sparkled with light stolen from the torches. I started, and caught the end of Arthur’s speech: “Stay.” 

I nodded. What sort of new game was he playing with me? I couldn’t understand him at all. Was he having second thoughts?

The genial hosts joined their guests in the longhouse. Sounds erupted from the building. A Cornish warrior was thrown out into the courtyard. I deliberately turned my back on those silly games these grown-up men never cease to play. Mark had gambled, and lost, at last; the Celts would go to their beds full of their belated victory…

At last, the victors emerged from the longhut. From the corner of my eye, I saw Llud punch the air with his silver hand. Kai sheathed his sword with obvious delight, and struck him in the guts. Merely play-acting; were men always little boys at heart? Both, staggering like men drunk with mirth, directed their steps towards the heart of the village. And Arthur…, yes, Arthur was walking back, with a firm step, to where I was standing. Did he _actually_ think he could resume where he left off?

“Happy with those punches?’’ I sneered.

He shrugged. “It had to be taken care of. Best not to let Mark grow overconfident… And it might please your father, at least, to learn that the mighty king of Cornwall will march home the worse for wear. All in good friendship and amity, of course.”

“Of course. No lasting damages? Your leniency is to be commended…”

He grinned and took a step closer. I pulled back two steps. Arthur seemed astonished: for him, that is.

I could not let things go on like this; I had to unravel this tangled knot of a friendship, if that’s what he chose to call it. What kind of ‘amity’ was it, anyway, to be used, then discarded when it suited him?

“Arthur… no. Whatever you want from me, the answer is no. I won’t.”

“You helped me. And I am grateful.”

What did Arthur take me for? Perhaps it was my fault, but even my passivity under his lips the night before was no excuse for this. Did he truly believe that I would be flattered and thankful by his flirting with me? I hadn't forgotten what he had admitted to me that night we were all alone with a fire between us. For all his cleverness, he didn't know a lot about women if he thought it would put new heart into me, as if I were patted on the head like a faithful hound. I was his equal, and he would have to accept it.

“I helped consolidate _Yorath_ ’s alliance. I am a Princess of the Jutes. I will be leader of my people, or have you forgotten? I won’t be treated like a slave, to be fondled and discarded when it suits you. I will be your friend, as agreed, but nothing else. Certainly not a matrimonial prize, and absolutely not a discreet lover.”

Arthur seemed to ponder my words; I held my breath. Would I lose, in one evening, all my hopes? I had thought he really liked me, and I would have been content with _that_ reward.

At last, he asked, “Do you think it to be the wisest course, Princess?”

“Yes.” 

“I bow to your wisdom, then.”

He actually bowed with a flourish over the hand I had not realised he held in his. But he immediately spoilt the grace of the gesture by next pinching my cheek. “You are a good sort of a girl, Rowena. Keep that thought!”

He left me gaping, as the night swallowed him.

*******

**Arthur’s Tale**

Some months later, when I rode into Yorath’s village, Rowena wasn’t too pleased to see me. On the contrary, she strode out of her hut, eyes flashing, in a face now framed by hazel curls.

“Well.” 

That was all the welcome I was to receive.

“Rowena,” said I, matching her tone. 

The reason for this mood of hers was soon apparent; she couldn’t help disclosing it at once. 

“This is twice you have been to see me in one year.” 

A great fault, indeed. Did she believe that I had the leisure to make courtesy calls on my friends and allies? A chief’s burden is never eased.

We went hunting, for hunting it was to be, in order to confer with Yorath. The old fool wasn’t even aware of the intricacies of his new alliance; what would he do if Cerdig attacked _me_? Merely count his new born colts and his blessings? Perhaps, he would. 

This left a huge gap in our defences, more grievous that the trickle of cattle-herders I had half-seriously tried to halt. This would not be a dribble; it would be an unstoppable torrent; a flood that would destroy all I had lived and strived for. _This must not be._ Thinking of it made me shudder with the cold tremor of death. And Yorath himself, for all his tactics, could one day be no better than the quarry his hawk had caught, bloodied and shredded into oblivion.

Fortunately, Rowena saw things my way, for a change.

The girl seemed to have matured a great deal since I saw her; it became her, lending a new smoothness to her gait, and a melancholy to her stare that emphasized the grey of her eyes. She would one day prove a worthy mate to her husband, whoever he might be. 

It was a pity I could not grant Llud’s wish, and marry her. However, to be truthful, he had lately stopped dropping hints, about the comforts of married life. I could not retort to that sermon as I ached to do, fearing to reopen old wounds. He would have to learn to look to Kai for grand-children in the immediate future. Honestly, it was a wonder no women had yet come to the longhut pointing accusingly in Kai’s direction.

Rowena pushed her luck, contradicting her father and was commanded to stay silent. But her silence spoke volumes. Someday, she would be a just and temperate leader of the Jutes, and along with a proper husband, she would help strengthen our alliance against our common foes. Till then, I had to cope with Yorath’s inadequacies, and prepare for the worst. I truly liked Yorath as a drinking companion, but as a fellow leader, caution was to be applied to his strategies. For all his bonhomie, in one of his moods he could be as unpredictable as Mark of Cornwall.

*******

Immediate bloodshed was averted, but not because of our pledges. The Scottish fleet was caught in a storm; their warriors descended into the abyss, choice morsels for the fishes. Until they bred new fighters, and built up their armies once again, we had a reprieve: time to hone new defences, forge new arms and argue new treaties. Time to rob another generation of their rest and youthful games.

The hardest task of all was still before us. We must stop hating, and learn to trust one another. Truer words were never spoken, but that seemed like reaching for the moon. 

However, a small step toward trusting each other was achieved that fateful night. Rowena and I mended the rift between us. Still wearing that aquamarine silk dress, she came out to see us off, as proud and erect as when she had accepted Cerdig’s apology with such nobility and firmness.

As she came by our horses, Kai turned to her. He had spent half the evening measuring her up through half-closed eyes, while she had come and gone among the revellers, avoiding wandering hands, swiftly replenishing cups, and never losing her dignity despite stooping to a servant’s task. That Cerdig didn’t even know who she was before he insulted her, made this abasement as unnecessary as Yorath’s new alliance. I wondered, would that even be imperilled by this night?

My brother’s thoughts were still a mystery to me. He had never even mentioned Rowena; never joked about my supposed infatuation for the Jute princess. Perhaps he didn’t want to inquire too much, fearing he would remind me of a failure. Or did he fear to betray his interest? Of late, his womanizing had somewhat lessened. The one time Llud remarked on it, Kai stormed out, and Llud didn’t mention it again.

I waited for Rowena to speak. She looked up, and merely said, “Thank you.” 

I smiled back at her. Defending her honour had been an impulse to which I’d gladly yielded; besides, wasn’t it best policy to stay on good terms with the Jutes and their future leader?

To my surprise, Kai butted in: “Arthur did right. If he had not acted, I would have.”

Rowena clasped her hands, and swallowed. She turned swiftly to face him, and held out her arm, palm offered. “I am indebted to you too, then.”

“I did not act,” Kai replied.

“You did not act, but you thought of it. A thought is the beginning of reality; it changes it. So my thanks are not undeserved.”

Kai bowed his head. “I thank you for this thought, then. It is to be treasured.”

“Is there something to be treasured then, out of this debacle?” Rowena’s tone was bitter. “The Gods were mocking us, it seems. Even my children’s children, if I ever bear any, won’t see the end of these wars. If the Gods are warring on us, is there any hope at all?” 

She lowered her eyes. There were tears in them. “Kai, I… I'm so sorry – I didn't imagine it would turn the treaty into dust.” She bit her lower lip. “It must be a very hard blow on your hopes.” With that, she turned on her heels.

Kai dismounted. He came forward, blocking her path, and seized her hands in his, engulfing her pale flesh in hard calloused fingers. 

Rowena, surprised by his swift motion, schooled her face into an indifferent blankness, but I had seen her first reaction, mingling hope and fear. Her slight frame was dwarfed by my brother’s; he stooped to her, whispering: “There is always hope. Am I not the proof of it? Take heart, Princess, and pray your God. We have achieved much tonight. The first step is always the hardest.”

Rowena looked right into his eyes, closed hers as if blinded by something I could not see, and whispered back: “It is, indeed.” Then she turned and disappeared into Yorath’s hut. 

Behind me, Llud whispered, “Well, I’ll…” 

I had no doubt that our father would have a lot to contemplate, when we were alone.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

Is there a Saxon alive who will believe a woman’s word? It would appear not.

The group which happened upon us were a suspicious and unfriendly lot. Try as I might, I couldn’t convince them that I was Rowena, daughter of Yorath, princess of the Jutes, the allies of Cerdig. I didn’t look like royal blood, with my torn sleeve and my dirty breeches. I hoped they believed me still.

As they took us deeper into Saxon territory, I wondered how I would save my own and my companions’ lives. As Arthur once said, it wasn’t like Saxons to keep their axes clean, with Jutish and Celtic blood about. 

Poor Gamon was turning a curious shade of green; should it be known that he came from Cornwall, his fate would be even less enviable than mine. I felt sorry for him. He had agreed to make a detour from his path in order to strengthen my escort to Arthur’s village, and fate was doing him what could be a fatal discourtesy. 

Of the three Jute warriors who started the trip with me, two were dead; the other was badly wounded. The Saxons had left him lying in the grass, where our night camp had been. I had not been allowed to check on him before they bound, and threw me, head and feet dangling, over my horse’s back. The two stallions we had been bringing as a gift from Yorath to Arthur, a renewal of his pledge on the Celtic alliance, were better cared for than we. The steeds were more important to them than human life, it seemed; they were to be a present for Cerdig. Did those barbarians need to ingratiate themselves with him? From the look of them, they would need to offer him a whole herd.

My arms were killing me when we finally arrived to our destination. I was lowered from my horse, managed not to land head first, and ended up in a sorry heap at some smelly man’s feet. He wasn’t Cerdig; his legs were too muscled and too slender to be the old chief’s. He pulled me roughly to my feet. I staggered; all my limbs felt like lead, from hours of forced immobility.

Cerdig was in his hut, sitting by his fire, surrounded by his warriors. The men looked me up and down; I felt naked. My captor still held me by the straps he had buckled my wrists with, as if I were a cow or a goat. Perhaps, for Saxons, animals were more worthy of consideration than women.

The leader of the Saxons put his drinking horn down. The liquid splashed on his forearm. The reflection from the torches fell on what looked like a Roman shield fixed on the far wall, its decoration thrown into sharp relief. Fleetingly I wondered what this work of art was doing in that dark and disordered dump of a hut.

“So, what have you brought here, eh? Another filly?” The men laughed uproariously at this feeble joke.

I had to make myself heard among this noise. I let my voice ring out: “Is that the way you teach your warriors to keep your peace? I’m no filly. I’m Yorath’s heir.” 

Silence covered the room like snowflakes.

Cerdig looked at me through half-closed eyes. The man who was holding my ties took a step backward. At Cerdig’s wordless command, he took up his knife, and cut up the leather straps. As I was trying to restore some life into my hands, the Saxon King got up from his throne, took my face between his palms, and dragged me to the nearest torch.

“So it is. I never forget a face. Especially not the one I once apologized to.”

“Then, my lord, the easier it will be to repeat the apology,” I replied. 

Unexpectedly, Cerdig laughed. “You are your father’s daughter! Indeed, you are, you filly! Pushing your luck and taking foolish chances.” He let me go. “Perhaps, I will.”

“And perhaps, you’ll pay blood price for my men your warriors slew. Two are dead, the other one may yet be.”

I almost began to pity the man who had captured me. He had boasted along the way of the advantages Cerdig would confer on him for this rich bounty: horses, jewels – those I had worn; ransom, if I truly were a king’s daughter, and the right to open my thighs, if I were not. All this was now a castle in the air, and he was left wondering whether he’d live to see another sunrise.

I pushed my advantage: “My Lord Cerdig, I would have an escort back to my lands, for me and my servant.” Gamon would not be glad to be labelled thus, being a free man, but he would be more than happy to escape with his life. “And word sent to my father that I am safe, and enjoying your hospitality.”

I held my breath as Cerdig considered my words. Would he try to hold me hostage here, in exchange for my father’s good will? Yorath had allowed his watch along their frontier to lapse, letting some of Cerdig’s herders pass through without troubling them. But Father was an old hand; he wanted peace enough to know that it is sometimes ensured with by being prepared for war. Contrary to Arthur’s fears, he had not ceased to make ready.

But it appeared the Saxon leader was in good faith. 

I was led away to a nearby hut where I was presented with a clean dress, and given back my necklace and my ring, along with some hot water, for bathing. I welcomed it; I felt very sore, and dirty as a piglet. Then an old woman brought me some meat and bread. When I tried to engage her in conversation, she hushed me, and went out. 

After a while, Gamon joined me, still puzzled by our adventure. In short sentences, glancing at the entrance for fear of being overheard, I told him what he had to know.

Night was drawing in. Gamon was given a pallet and sheepskin covers, in the servants’ common hut. I was led to the guests’ hut. I had not seen Cerdig again, and wondered what would be in store for me in the morning. It would be a three days’ journey to my father’s village. By now, he would know that I hadn’t reached my destination. He would be infuriated by this complication. 

And so would Arthur; I doubted he had the manpower to spare to search for me. I was a nuisance in his eyes, and a nuisance I proved again and again to be…

On this hopeful thought, I fell asleep.

*******

**Kai’s Tale**

‘Drawing up maps is a work for priests’, Cerdig said.

Hell’s teeth, we should have drawn maps that one time. This would have shown me the path I was to tread, avoiding the pitfalls of enmity and distrust. I, ‘the Saxon who rides with Arthur’, could not ride securely either side of the boundaries. Fear and reluctance from one side; hate and resentment from the other. 

Only in Arthur’s longhut had I truly found my place.

I had cause to regret that near-miss; the only knife that found its target was the one that killed Cerdig’s man, ending the pact. It had been good to taste Saxon bread once more. With it came the sights and scents of my former home and dimly remembered faces that I revisited in my dreams, but which I couldn’t grasp when the night fled, and lost embraces, fraying with the shining of the dawn.

But the Celts were my people now, even if my truest family was reduced to these two men who welcomed me with complete confidence.

Since that meeting, Arthur was restless. As soon as the fear of immediate invasion had receded, he convened a meeting with his allies. 

Dirk, Bavick, Hereward and Ambrose came in person. The others sent envoys. After much talk, they approved of Arthur’s plans, setting watchmen on their parts of the coastline, and devising a new signal to be sent our way, as soon as it was needed to raise an army. The network wasn’t perfect, as we still didn’t know whether Yorath would keep his side of the pact or not; the fool was lowering his guard, believing his new Saxon ally’s words of peace. Still we needed his reinforcement, if the Scots were to press on us. At best, we could count on Cerdig to wait for the outcome before making his move. But our weakness would prove a tempting opportunity for some of his petty chieftains; whatever the risks, we could not feed both fronts with men.

That decided, there was still much to be done; first, we had to find out Cerdig’s intentions. Would he merely try to secure Yorath’s non-interference, or wait for reinforcements from his native land, or would he mount a surprise attack? 

A scouting party would have to cross his lines, and learn of his immediate plans. I volunteered; I felt it was my duty. I distrusted and admired Cerdig’s cunning, and I had crossed words with him often enough to discern when the man was lying. 

Arthur just told me, “Do as you see fit,” which was enough to go on. I selected Bors and Gruffyn to come with me. They were both as blond as I, and – expecting a mission like this – I had taught them the intricacies of axe fighting. It was always best to be prepared.

We rode the first part of the way; when we arrived by the river that marked the boundary, Trent took our horses away. He was to secure them, and wait for us for a fortnight, but he insisted that he would wait a week more. I had to give way; after all, we didn’t know how much time we would need to complete our survey. If we hadn’t returned by then, Trent was to carry word of our failure, back to Arthur.

But we were optimistic, little knowing that only two of us would live to tell the tale.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

It wasn’t the crow of a rooster that awoke me, but a cacophony of screams of delight and anger. I rubbed my eyes, still heavy with sleep; I draped a sheepskin over my shoulders, and went out. It was still night. The courtyard was fully illuminated by torches; in the middle of this enclosed space, a group of men gestured excitedly. I slipped out of my hut to find out what was going on. Everyone was focused on the centre of the court; no one had yet spotted me.

Cerdig, his hair tousled, came out of his dwelling, tugging on his ill-fitting clothes. Even in this ridiculous gear, he still managed to look formidable. When he appeared, a hush fell on the crowd. A Saxon came forward, and gestured toward three other men, kneeling at the feet of two Saxon warriors, axes drawn, and raised as if to strike. 

Were the fallen men envoys from Yorath? I couldn’t see their faces, and they were dressed like Saxons. I crept closer to get a better view, and hid behind a pile of baskets.

Cerdig approached the smallest of the three men, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled the prisoner’s head backwards, revealing a face so disfigured by bruises that his own mother wouldn’t have recognised him. The man sprawled next to him was also strange to me, but the face of the last man was as familiar to me as my own. 

It was Kai’s.

*******

My gasp of dismay was so loud that the woman standing a little to my right turned around and saw me. There was no point in hiding any longer; I stepped into the light, clutching the sheepskin before me as if it were a shield. I was gripping it so tightly, that my knuckles were white – but it would not defend me from the gathered Saxons’ hostile looks. Wordlessly, the crowd backed away, leaving nothing but the night air between me and Cerdig.

I was left alone in a circle of eyes whose accusations were screaming aloud in this unbearable silence.

Cerdig let go of the man’s head; it lolled, and the man toppled and fell to the ground with a muffled thud.

“Do you know this man?”

“No,” I truthfully replied.

“A spy.”

There was no answer I could think of.

“And what of this one?” Cerdig gestured toward the older man, hunched up beside his fallen comrade. He did not move at all, his jerky breathing the only sign he was still alive.

“No – I don’t know him either.” Cold sweat was seeping into my dress; the fabric felt clammy on my back. I feared the next question.

“And this one?” Cerdig unsheathed his dagger, set the point under Kai’s chin, forcing Kai to face him.

“Spy, traitor and perjurer, rolled into one. A fine catch, isn’t it?” 

Kai’s eyes fired something I didn’t quite understand at the Saxon leader. Cerdig read it quite well; he turned aside, and, with an even motion, grabbed the older Celt by the hair, and slit his throat. Blood spurted with such force, it drenched Kai’s tunic; some splashed on my feet. The man jerked once, and fell onto Kai’s lap.

I hadn’t even had the time to scream.

“Thus is deceit rewarded.”

Kai kept silent, his lips set in a tight, hard line; his eyes that stared ahead had a weary and drawn expression.

As Cerdig wiped his dagger on the dead man’s clothes, he said, “Do you know this weapon, Kai, traitor to the Saxons? It is the twin of the one your leader certainly threw away not so long ago.”

This was no mystery for Kai, I could see that. 

“It is fitting it should be the means of your death.”

Kai merely replied, “So be it, then.”

I felt faint. I had to think of something. I _had_ to. But my head was so empty I could not _think_.

Dropping my one defence – my sheepskin - to the ground, half-covering the dead Celtic spy, I took a step forward. 

“Will you put your alliance with my father at risk for a petty revenge, my lord?” 

As I heard myself utter those words, I could not for the life of me, think what to say next. _Play for time, woman_ , I thought to myself. _Each minute counts._ Then an idea bubbled in the cauldron of my mind.

Nothing but faint disinterest lurked in Cerdig’s frown. 

I hastened to add, “Doesn’t our treaty encompass all people of my tribe and our possessions?” 

“It does.” 

“So Kai is party of the treaty. Break it now, and be sorry later.”

Abandoning all pretence at courtesy, Cerdig grabbed my forearms so hard I cried out in pain. 

“Woman, you go too far! Know your place! Because I have been lenient before doesn’t mean…”

He stood musing for a heart’s beat, his eyes moving from me to Kai with a calculating look.

“Are you trying to please that Arthur of yours?”

“He’s no Arthur of mine!” I retorted. “He never was.”

“What is this man’s life to you? Is this perjurer worthy of a war?”

“Perjurer?” I sniffed disdainfully. “He has done no worse than defend his people when they are attacked. Don’t you teach the same to your sons?” 

“Aye. But he brought this on their heads; may their blood be on his hands!”

“May his blood be upon you and upon your sons! Yorath won’t leave this offence unpunished. Kai is my husband-to-be.”

Kai’s eyes widened.

I had made my draw. The stakes were very high, indeed.

*******

**Kai’s Tale**

 _I failed._ It went round and round in my head, like the strains from a minstrel’s song. _I failed Arthur and my people._

Our scouting expedition had begun well. We had stealthily progressed through the woods, using the undergrowth on the river banks as cover and then we wiggled through the meadows, hiding among the trees when some broke the monotony of cultivation. Then it was the forest and the familiar shelter of the trees, the tangle of bushes and the darkness of the underbrush. We made good way.

We had to go close to the source of information: Cerdig himself, or one of his lieutenants. We had managed before to enter Cerdig’s hut; I knew we could do it again, more easily as I now knew the way; even if the Saxons would be doubly on their guard. But none of my companions was Arthur. That could make all the difference.

It was Bors’ cough that gave us away. We had reached the edge of the fields and we were very near the Saxon’s first outpost, when Bors began to shake with it. The sound exploded in the silence of the night. A dog heard it, and began to bark excitedly. Another one joined in. Soon every dog within a league was howling. The racket revealed our presence as plainly as daylight.

Afterwards, I could remember nothing, save a medley of men fighting in growing disorder; I swung my axe like a man possessed. It felled two, but it was a poor satisfaction. Bors was hard-pressed by two opponents and soon fell. Cries of pain and a short, humiliating fight followed. We were too badly outnumbered: new warriors pouring from the nearby village came to replace those we had dispatched. The alarm had been given and we had no way out of this one, not even undignified flight. By the time the melee ended, Gruffyn’s eye was showing the result of a hard blow and Bors’ right arm was dangling with an awkward angle. My back was already on fire from one blow I had not been able to dodge; I felt blood seep into my clothing.

And here I was: a prisoner to one of Cerdig’s lieutenants, elated with his prize. The three of us were roped like chickens before the slaying; I knew this would not be long in coming, unless the Saxon leader first chose to parade me in front of my enemies, before granting me death. There was nothing Cerdig would relish more than to have me at his mercy: I had scorned his offers to join my Saxon ‘family’ and lied to him about it. He was not the man to forget a breach of fealty. In my ‘defection’, his personal pride was as touched as his leadership.

If it weren’t enough, Cerdig would make sure Arthur learned of my demise with all the grisly details.

I dared not hope for an exchange or a ransom asked. The Saxon leader would also rejoice in the tears of blood my stupidity would cost Llud and Arthur. My chieftain had been a thorn in his side for years, a grievance even more irksome for the help Arthur had rendered his people, and for the failed pact between them. My foolishness would cause a grievous wound to my family. I should have listened to my first thought, and gone alone. I had ventured before on Saxon territory, succeeding by my strength and wit, and this time, as before, I should have had my own way.

We staggered into the courtyard of the village. No action of Cerdig surprised me. I fleetingly envied Bors’ fate: his was a quick death. They would make sure we died slowly, I knew. At least, Bors went to his death knowing he didn’t unwillingly betray his people. All men had a breaking point. I wasn’t eager to discover mine.

Rowena’s presence was the last straw. What was she doing here? The girl looked like a ghost, her face as white as the sheepskin she was clutching to her breast. Was she also a prisoner? In a half-dream, as if already departed from reality, I heard the words that pierced my brain with fire: “Kai is my husband-to-be.”

Was the girl utterly mad? Did she believe that she, a mere woman, would stand in the way of Cerdig’s triumph?

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

Surely I had gone mad from fear. Did I really believe that my word would spare Kai? 

Because I had thrown myself between Mark and Arthur, didn’t mean that this move would succeed every time. Mark could be reasoned with; Cerdig was a totally unfamiliar player.

I kept my gaze anchored to Cerdig’s eyes. They were unfathomable, totally impervious to my silent questioning.

In Kai’s eyes I had read acceptance of his fate. That was no surprise. He was a warrior and a gambler, dicing with his life each time he seized his axe, and went into battle.

Cerdig gestured. The warriors pulled Kai and his surviving companion to their feet. They half-led, half-dragged the unknown Celtic warrior to the hut where Gamon slept. A sentry took position at the entrance. 

Then Kai was freed from his bonds. 

He still hadn’t really looked at me. I went to him and put my arms around his waist; when I pulled my hands back, they were sticky, but it was I who was trembling, not he, despite his wound.

“Accompany these two to the guest lodgings,” Cerdig commanded.

So I went back the way I came, accompanied by two of Cerdig’s men. Kai walked beside me, still not uttering a word to me. Only his fleeting glance had acknowledged me. He let me go first into the hut. When I looked back, I saw that Cerdig was still with us. Our armed escorts were standing outside the door.

“These men will stand watch, for your security,” Cerdig said.

“How gracious of you,” I replied.

“At dawn, my messenger will go to Yorath, to apprise him of your safety. As my _ally_ , I’m sure he’ll be glad to invite me to your wedding. It will, of course, take place at _his_ convenience. _I_ ’ll personally escort you to the place.” With this incredible declaration, he went out. The door closed. I heard it barred from the outside.

I was left alone with Kai.

If looks could kill, I wouldn’t be here to tell the tale, being now reduced to a pile of ashes. 

As soon as our Saxon host had left, Kai pulled me roughly into his arms and whispered furiously: “Have you gone mad, Rowena? What is the meaning of this?”

I struggled to free myself from his embrace. It was for nought, I could not break his hold. Enraged, I whispered as furiously, “I’m trying to save your life, you fool!”

“Save my life? Do you believe that this stupid scheme of yours is going to achieve that? A child would see through it! Cerdig surely has.”

“But he will go along with it – he has no choice. And so will Arthur, if it brings him back his brother safe and sound.”

“So Arthur is the reason of it all? Will you go to any lengths to please _him_?”

“No, your stupidity is the reason of it.” I had managed to set one of my arms free, and pushed against his chest. “Let me go, I can’t breathe. You’re hurting me, you brute!” 

His fingers tightened for a second, then he released me.

I stepped back, away from him, and took a deep breath; it seemed to clear my head. “Let’s not quarrel now. You’re injured and getting blood all over the place. Let me help you.” 

Meekly, Kai sat on a nearby bench; under the dirt, his skin was pasty grey. I helped him strip off his outer sheepskin and his tunic. I swallowed hard at the sight. There was still some water in the jug. I tore a strip from my dress, and used it to clean and bind the wound. It was not deep but I didn’t like the look of it. Wounds like that can fester. “I’ll have to ask for proper help in the morrow… Till then…”

As I surveyed my awkward handiwork, I whispered to his back, “If that marriage prospect is troubling you, have no fear. I’ll deny this as soon as we are away from Saxon territories.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I won’t? Well, we’ll see about it.” I turned my back on him. “If you’ll allow me, the night is still young, and I’m going back to bed.”

I sat on the bed, gathered the remaining covers and slid under them. 

Kai was observing me with a very impish smile.

“Good idea. This must the first sensible thing you said tonight.” He calmly took off his boots. 

I swallowed. “What in the Holy Mother’s name do you think you’re doing?”

“Going to bed, as you suggested. What else?”

“Not in here?”

“My dear Rowena, are you denying your husband-to-be the comfort of your own bed? Cerdig would not understand if I slept on the floor.” 

With stiffened movements, Kai joined me in the bed. His back must be aching like the fires of Hell. 

I retreated till I was perched precariously near the edge. Kai laughed and patted the space between us. “Don’t be shy. I won’t bite.” 

It was indeed a very silly thing to do, so I went back to the middle of the mattress. Surely Kai wouldn’t… not with that wound, anyway. He lay by my side, quietly breathing, very still, and very deliberately not touching me. The strangeness of the situation intensified my longing for his touch. I was actually less afraid of him than of bringing shame on my own head.

It was a very long time before I slept. Kai’s regular breathing finally lulled me to oblivion.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

I woke up in Kai’s arms. 

Somehow, in the night, I had snuggled close to him. What a picture we presented! The servant who woke me up when bringing us some food got an eyeful of tangled arms and legs. I had a cramp in my neck, awkwardly pillowed on Kai’s chest. He was still asleep. How could he slumber with the peace of the dead, in such a situation?

When I swung my legs out of the bed, Kai stirred. I hastily pulled my dress down to cover my thighs.

“Good morning,” I said, with commendable originality.

“Good morning,” he replied.

“There’s bread and ale.” Without waiting for him, I went to the table and began to eat. I was ravenous.

“Good, I’m hungry.” 

Kai got up, splashed himself with some cold water and put on his tunic. Some very dark bruises were standing out on his back and shoulders.

“What now? Must we wait for my father’s messengers?” 

Kai sat down and grabbed a hunk of bread. “Your guess is as good as mine. For now – we eat.”

Between mouthfuls, I told Kai how I had found myself in Cerdig’s village. Talk was all we could do to while the time, after all.

We had no choice but to wait for what would come.

*******

**Kai’s Tale**

For the first few days, I was so surprised by our predicament that I could do no more than try to build up my strength, and observe Rowena.

My wound slowly mended. I had been lucky: it was just a flesh wound, as the axe had narrowly missed my shoulder blade.

Rowena changed the dressing each day, bathing it with various medicinal concoctions made from plants she had asked for. She bent to the task with a care I had not expected of her. Simple womanly tasks were not the ones you associated with her, but it was doing the girl an injury to think so; wild as she might seem, there was a hidden strength, sweetness and a steadiness of purpose in her that belied one’s first impression.

There was also shyness under this boyishness of hers. She frequently averted her eyes, and blushed when I looked at her.

Hell’s Teeth! I’d rather stare at her than at my surroundings. There was nothing much to see, or many means to while away the hours. All we had to ease our boredom were the comings and goings of the old crone who served us, from which Rowena’s sweet face was a welcome diversion. It was like a landscape. Her moods shifted like shades across her eyes, and in repose, her mouth asked to be kissed. Would it be as soft and yielding as I expected it to be?

Were I in a better health or better spirits, I would have attempted to dispel our boredom in another way, even if that was only a half-felt wish as Rowena was totally unlike the women I usually bedded. Most of them took it for what it was, jolly good fun for a night, and – almost – never asked for anything more.

This suited me just fine. I had no wish to saddle myself with a family, nor did I have the time. 

My whole life was ordered around Arthur and his needs. Would it be fair to leave that woman when Arthur called, and indulge in one of the mad schemes and strategies my leader frequently involved me in? I had seen what waiting did to a woman, endlessly expecting a footstep that didn’t sound and the presence of one who would never come back to warm her bed. I could not condemn anyone to that kind of life.

I frowned. I was lying to myself, for I _had_ tried to relieve the acute loneliness I sometimes felt; twice I had tried, and twice I had failed to recognize the women for what they were: a traitor and a manipulative shrew. Was I so eager to find some kind of connection that I disdained to listen to my instinct? 

Rowena was sometimes devious, but there was nothing wicked in her, merely a sparkling brightness, and a deep compassion.

This brought me back to my first question: why was she doing it?

She wouldn’t say. She accepted my thanks with a pasted-on smile, as if she were already regretful.

The girl was a bundle of contradictions. She had sulked all the while we rode back to her father, that first time I set eyes on her. Nevertheless, I knew this very day, very suddenly and quite thoroughly, that she was mine if I wished it. I let her go with regret; she was who she was, and I had made enough of a fool of myself. 

Arthur’s callousness irked me more than I wanted to admit. How he could possess her, as he had, and yet not want her, was beyond me. But my brother would sacrifice a lot for his avowed duty, the safety of his people. He would trample on his own desires if he had to, so I was no wiser as to his feelings for Rowena as I was months before.

I had loved Arthur as I had not loved any woman. But even this affection was fading before the fierce craving that I barely held in check, for a chit of a girl who looked at me with wide and wary eyes and tensed each time we got close.

At night, when sleep overcame her, Rowena no longer shrank from me. I lay awake in the night, inhaling the perfume of her hair, the curve of her breast pressed against me. This was peace of a kind I had never known before. Thus I knew that I wanted to use all the strength I had to protect her happiness.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

We waited for a fortnight, confined to that same hut.

By the end of it, I was ready to scream. No word filtered about Gryffid and Gamon’s lot. The woman who served us did not utter a word; she might have been mute, for all I knew. She merely brought us food and water, medicine for Kai’s back and means to wash ourselves; she also emptied piss-pots.

After a few days, I had discarded my maidenly modesty; I just asked Kai not to peek when nature called. I trusted his word. The discomfort of this enforced intimacy was slowly waning, but I was desperate for a breath of fresh air and most of all, information. Would Cerdig set us free? What game was he playing?

Kai was seemingly taking this shared captivity better than I was. 

On what – were I to know it – would be the last evening of our captivity, I exploded: “How can you be so calm? Aren’t you dying of curiosity?”

“I am.” 

“Then, why aren’t you showing it?”

“Would it make a difference?”

“No,” I reluctantly admitted. “But it would make me feel better.”

Kai laughed.

I was lying on our bed, sprawled on my belly, head resting on my arms. 

Kai was seated in the farthest corner of the room, playing with an empty goblet, letting it roll on the surface of the table, the only furniture in the room, besides the bed, two benches and one solitary stool. Two torches dimly lit the hut that was our entire horizon.

“I’m bored to tears, that’s all. This inactivity is driving me crazy.”

I sprang on my feet and paced; it didn’t help. I dropped onto the bench in front of him. There was some meat left in the bowl from our last meal. I asked Kai, “Want to eat some more?”

“No.”

“Want to go to bed?”

“Give me a few more days. I heal quickly.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“I did.”

I could not meet his eyes. I felt myself blushing from my toes to the roots of my hair. Was I _that_ obvious?

“Rowena, it’s unavoidable.” Kai let go of the goblet and put his hand on mine. “Why don’t you yield gracefully?” 

In his warm hand, my fingers felt like ice.

“What do you fear? You cannot go back. Your honour will never recover from this, if we are not wed. Not after Mark, not…” He stopped in mid-sentence.

“Not after Arthur? Is that what you were going to say?” I fumed. “I’m sick and tired to have Arthur’s name hurled into my face, day in and day out, you know!”

“What is it, then?” 

Really, the man was absolutely dense. 

“Take heart, I may yet be killed in battle. You’ll be set free earlier than you may know.”

“Of all the callous things to say!” I flung back. “And I could die young in childbirth, too!” 

I angrily began to pace anew. Fear and self-hatred were bubbling, and it was high time they boiled over.

“Don’t berate me, Kai. I can do it better than you. Do you believe I don’t realise what I did to you? I’m forcing you into a hated marriage, and if it weren’t enough, it will place you in an untenable position. As my husband, you can’t fight the Saxons without breaking Yorath’s pact! Arthur will lose his most trusted lieutenant!”

I added miserably, “What have I _done_? I’d rather tell the truth and be done with it!”

Kai moved so fast I had no chance to avoid him. He stopped me before I could reach the door, calling for Cerdig and spilling out the truth. 

That was when I felt something come apart inside my heart – I distinctly heard the strings snap. I wished I could no longer feel any emotion. For a wild moment, even death would have been better that this dreadful knowledge that I had bound the man I desired above all others to me for life, knowing that he would never reciprocate. He would bed me out of lust, and be kind to me out of pity, while I would live weighed down with a love I could never declare. Love potions were just for minstrels to sing about; even if a wise woman prepared one for me, it could not inspire Kai to really fall in love with me. It would be an illusion, and I could not stand it.

“You are saving my life,” Kai said reasonably.

I sighed. “Yes, but…”

“No ‘buts’.”

The first kiss was tentative and very, very sweet.

The second kiss was much more demanding. I tangled my hands in Kai’s hair, answering his intensity as best I could. I was swiftly lost to my surroundings; all my nerve endings were answering his touch. I knew, despite my inexperience, that his reaction was as strong as mine. I moaned. His hands were roaming freely, stroking my back and the sides of my breasts, and I surrendered into his touch as if there was nothing else in the world that signified.

The third kiss was more desperate than I wanted it to be. Kai’s lips were doing the strangest things to my throat and shoulder. My skin tingled in every place he had kissed.

The fourth kiss had begun even more auspiciously. I do not know how it would have ended, if Kai hadn’t let me go so suddenly that I nearly lost my balance, catching the wall for support.

A few feet away, Llud was eyeing us quizzically. Cerdig was standing next to him, as were Alaois and two other men from my village.

The fat was well and truly in the fire.

 

**_Finis_ (Part II) **

  
**Notes for Part II**

“The reflection from the torches fell on what looked like a Roman shield fixed on the far wall, its decoration thrown into sharp relief” : That Roman shield was a gift from Arthur. ( _The Treaty._ )

'Especially not the one I once apologized to.' : Yorath insulted Rowena, mistaking her for a servant, then had to apologize (as Yorath did). ( _The Treaty_ )

“Spy, traitor and perjurer...”: Kai let Cerdig believe he would join the Saxons. ( _In Common Cause_ (S2 E7))

Cerdig's dagger. “It is the twin of the one your leader certainly threw away not so long ago.” : Cerdig gave one to Arthur ( _The Treaty_.) At the end of the episode, Kai wants to throw it away but Arthur decides to keep it, as a memento, hoping for future peace talks.

“We had managed before to enter Cerdig’s hut” : _In Common Cause._

“I had loved Arthur as I had not loved any woman.”: Shamelessly borrowed to King David’s _Lament_ on Jonathas’ death…

“Love potions were just for minstrels to sing about...”: A slight dig against the Tristan and Isolde love potion, of course!


	3. Knucklebones - Part III

**Rowena’s Tale**

I can’t remember ever feeling so self-conscious. To be caught unaware, by a bunch of grinning, leering old men, while being pawed and fondled like a lowly wench – and obviously enjoying it, too! – was one of the most embarrassing moments I had ever lived through. 

Llud was in a class of his own. He was, as ever, perfectly considerate. Apart from his first reaction, nothing in his stance or manner betrayed the style of our meeting. He enquired after my health, expressing his relief of finding us safe, and in one piece.

As for Kai, I didn’t dare look at him, but nothing in his voice would have told you there was anything out of the ordinary for him in this situation.

 _That’s_ what stung the most.

*******

**Kai’s Tale**

Rowena went rigid, but she recovered quickly enough to greet Alaois and Llud. She regally nodded to the other men.

Llud smiled at her. Me, he appraised. “Kai, I see our delay hasn’t diminished your – ardour.”

Cerdig beamed, every inch of him exuding avuncular benevolence. “Indeed not. You see why haste was of the utmost importance.”

This speech, more than anything else, aroused my suspicion. What trick did he have up his sleeve?

Llud’s sharp eyes must have seen the blood on my tunic. Rowena had tried to wash out the stains with what water we were given, to no avail. A slight tightening of Llud’s jaw betrayed his anxiety. But my back had begun to recover its usual suppleness, and he relaxed as he watched how I released the Jute princess and stepped back from her.

“Is everything all right with you, Rowena?” Llud kindly asked.

“It is, thank you, but I will feel even better when I’m away from this place.” Rowena turned to Cerdig. “Not that I don’t find your hospitality delightful, my lord. You even provided me with means to break the tedium.”

“– But you would be glad to go home,” Cerdig said.

“Indeed, I would. Escorted by my husband-to-be.”

“Your husband will go with you, of course,” he assented. “As our treaty demands.”

I could see from the look on Cerdig’s face that if it weren’t for that treaty, I would not leave his territories – alive.

Cerdig turned to address me. “You are fortunate in your choice of a wife, Kai. She saved your life. For the present.”

Since she had left my arms, Rowena had not looked once in my direction.

We went out. After so many days spent cooped-up, we were almost blinded by the light of day.

Near the entrance, a few horses were waiting. Llud went to his and took a bundle from the saddle. He gave it to Rowena. “Ardra gave me this for you.”

She untied the fastening. Inside, there were some clothes, a silver comb and some other trifles. Rowena hesitated. 

One of the Jute men, who had kept silent till then, told her: “Lady, you have to change your attire. You cannot travel in this dress. We'll wait here.” 

Rowena nodded and went back into the hut.

*******

I joined her as she was tying her girdle. She spun around, obviously incensed.

“Can't you announce yourself? May I not have some privacy?” Her eyes flashed grey lightning at me. “What are you doing in here? Haven't you already done enough?”

“I must speak with you before we go. Have you done scolding yet? Your anger is unreasonable.”

“Anger? What about? Being publicly humiliated in front of my father’s envoys? Indeed, why should I be angry?” Her voice became very cold. “I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t carry this game of yours to this bed.” 

She gestured, and accidentally flung the belt across the room. She bent to retrieve it, and fastened it around her waist.

“Just be thankful our visitors didn’t come in a few minutes later.”

“You pig!”

“What does it matter? We’re already as good as wed.” The thought pleased me very much; that was unexpected. “At least, it lent some truth to that pretence of yours.”

“Pretence it was! Did you have to carry it so far?” 

She turned back to the bed, swept up her old damaged tunic and breeches along with the dress she had taken off, rolled them up and slipped them into the bag. “A pretence is all it ever was.”

With trembling hands, she smoothed her hair. Rowena had no mirror to check her appearance, so I told her, “You are very pretty.”

She didn't answer me, busying herself in putting away her possessions and knotting the bag.

As if her silence didn't bother me, I added, “Your father’s friend Alaois offered to stay in our place for a fortnight, as a guarantee that the wedding would take place.”

Rowena flashed me a look of alarm.

“But Cerdig said it wouldn’t be necessary. It seems he trusts you to save your honour by going through with it.”

She put her bag back on the bed, and slowly turned around, a wild-eyed fury. “Then thank the heavens Cerdig is a fool!”

But the girl had to see reason, for her own good. _For the common good_ , Arthur would have said, but I scorned those lies. _For our sakes_ , she had to, so before she could pepper me with more reproaches, I launched my own attack.

“I am the one who’s been played for a fool. But I will take good care you’ll never play me such a trick again.”

I was grateful that she’d saved my life, and marriage to Rowena wouldn’t displease me in the least, but if I let her know it, she would have me by the balls.

She stared back at me, her eyes turning black with smoldering anger.

“And how will you prevent it, oh mighty warrior?”

“When I marry you, you’ll see what an unyielding husband I can be.”

She took a great breath. “You’ll have to carry me to the altar by force, Kai.”

“If need be.” 

She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Then she sprang toward the door. 

I leaned against it, blocking her escape. This was a habit I would have to break her of; nothing was ever resolved by flight. As she had done before, she would have to stand up and fight her own battles. I had admired her previous resolve and her courage; I found this new side of Rowena quite puzzling.

“Would you – would you really?” There was a tremor in her voice.

“I would.”

“Then I will learn to hate you.” Her tone was final. 

I could not help it, I laughed. 

She added, “I’ll make your life a misery. Am I not a shrew with a viper’s tongue?”

“Then I’ll punish you, as I have leave to do.”

“Is that your way, Kai? To repay kindness with grief?”

“No, but you ask for it.”

This conversation was getting us nowhere. She was again trying to escape me, like a hare flees from a fox; without hope, but nevertheless refusing to give up. Taking her by surprise, I bent and kissed her hard on the lips. When I drew away, she stared at me with wide eyes. Was it fear or desire I saw lurking in them?

“Will you let me go? I shall not touch you ever again, no more than I would touch a snake!” she spat.

I had good cause to know how my touch _really_ repulsed her; she had fused her body to mine with an increasing lack of constraint before we were interrupted. Therefore I merely replied, “Wouldn’t you? We’ll see about that!”

She shot me an even darker look.

“Now, you listen to me, Woman! There’s nothing I should like better than to quarrel with you, but thanks to your considerate but ill thought-out efforts on my behalf, you have no other choice now than to wed me. Or do you want to break your word? Think of the consequences!”

“You mean – your death?”

“I mean – the possible rescinding of your father’s treaties. Men die in the battlefields, Rowena. And women and children grieve. Remember that.”

That brought her up short. She whispered, “I’m being selfish, aren’t I?” 

She turned and walked away from me. I could not see her face. Her back was tense.

Then she seemed to relax. When she turned back to me, her bland smile expressed nothing.

“So be it. Kai, I’ll try to be a comfortable wife to you.”

*******

**Arthur's Tale**

As soon as Kai and his companions had disappeared from the sentries' line of sight, a sense of doom had taken hold of my soul. 

I’d tried to shake it off. It was unreasonable and unexpected. No dream had given me foresight of an impending catastrophe; Llud's nose hadn’t even twitched. So I busied myself, redoubling my efforts while training, testing new parrying moves, and regretting Kai’s absence as a sparring partner.

Every whisper from the world resonated like an omen in my ears. I kept my senses strained for an unexpected blow.

It came sooner than I thought. Trent came back alone, leading the riderless horses.

He told me he had waited, but had seen nothing of our warriors. Some scouting Saxons, hiding themselves inexpertly, slipped between the trees on our side of the river. He had watched them for a while, hearing snatches of conversation. Disturbed by what he’d heard, he had returned sooner than expected, to warn me. If Kai, Bors and Gruffyn managed to keep their appointment with him, they would have to come home on foot. But I feared the worst. The talk Trent heard was of some sort of uproar in Cerdig's camp – of men being hauled in as prisoners, and displayed to all the village.

If Kai truly was in Cerdig's hands, I entertained few illusions about his fate. Cerdig was fully apprised of Kai's worth to me; he would not overlook such a golden opportunity. Moreover, he had an old score to settle with my brother: Kai had made light of his offers in broad daylight, so the Saxon king would undoubtedly use Kai as an example in broad daylight as well. 

Llud's heavy silence added to my feelings of rage and powerlessness. He knew better than to reprove me for his son's expected public execution. All warriors were expendable and Kai had volunteered. But Llud knew full well that my love for Kai – as well as his for me – made him stand out in our enemies' views. It would not be the first time our bond had been used as a bargaining tool, with terrible efficiency.

I stood on shifting sands. Nevertheless I began to plan how I could recover my men. I sent two men to try and gather any snippet of information. But before they came back, Yorath himself appeared on the threshold of my longhut. “Your Kai has got himself married to my Rowena.”

Kai? Married? I would as soon believe that he had willingly stayed in Cerdig’s camp.

When the latest events were disclosed to us, my first reaction was relief; the main thing was that Kai still lived. My second was compassion for Bors’s family; he had a young son, not four-years-old, and his wife was expecting. This would be a very hard blow to the whole family. 

The third was anger at Kai’s imprudence. How could he botch his assignment so badly, complicating matters that were already hopelessly entangled? 

The Jute leader was already reconciled to the idea of Kai marrying Rowena. Believing she could do far worse, he was glad to have his daughter off his hands, and – short of myself – there was no one he would like better for a son. He also said that his daughter’s ‘flightiness’ and ‘independence of spirit’ could find no better guide than Llud’s wise counsels and Kai’s inflexible hand. Besides, there was no remedy, as the couple had publicly shared the same bed for a half-moon.

Llud listened to this discourse with a slight smile. He had attended in silence to the disclosure of Rowena’s latest gamble. I knew he rather liked the girl and would be pleased to spend his declining years, cared for by one such as her.

However, he was the first to point out the obvious: Yorath’s most recent alliance would mean that Kai would have to make his peace with his former people. As Kai would never break his allegiance to _me_ , I would have to consider ways to take advantage of this new balance. I was as sure of Kai’s fealty as I was of his brotherly love for me.

Yorath left the following morning; he had to make ready for the bride and her bridegroom. The marriage feast would be splendid, and – bearing in mind Cerdig's involvement in the proceedings – Yorath had jumped at the chance of transforming a tribal matter into a political statement. So nervous was he that Rowena's rash announcement would definitively jeopardize months of discussions, he intended to use the occasion to finalise his pact with the Saxon King. He didn't stop to consider that it was an insult to his Celtic allies, and especially to my men.

Kai was born a Saxon, that much was true, but he wouldn't take lightly being displayed by his affianced wife's father for his self-serving designs with a man he loathed. I knew my brother: he would be wallowing in guilt for Bors' violent demise, even though he had no direct hand in it. But I doubted that Kai's bitter recriminations would be heard.

Yorath invited us both to the feast; Llud would go, of course.

I did not commit myself. This might be one of Cerdig’s ruses to lower my guard. He had not yet pledged a truce, however temporary, between his people and mine.

*******

I spent a few wakeful nights brooding on the alternatives.

If I went to that marriage feast, I’d leave my people unprotected, and give the Saxons the ideal opportunity to despatch me stealthily. If I refused to go, I would insult both Yorath and Rowena. Kai would understand the reason for my absence. At least, I hoped so.

And Cerdig had not made his move yet. 

My sleepless nights increased in number. 

I had always been blessed with being a light sleeper, able to wake up at will. I also could doze when I needed to: a useful gift for a warrior. But sleep was now denied me. I dozed off in the small hours then woke up fretfully from nightmares I could not recollect. Once or twice, when waking in a sweat, I had seen Llud silhouetted near my bed, checking on me. On the morning, I was already dog-tired and took pains to hide it.

I knew that I was not as invulnerable as I liked to believe; I had come face to face with my own mortality more times than I chose to remember. This did not bother me that much, as I had always expected to die in battle. But the recurrent headaches that came with the sleepless nights were not something I was prepared to face. I'd have to ask Lenni if she could supply a remedy.

*******

When Llud came back from Yorath’s camp, he gave me ample food for thought. Kai was unharmed, he told me, apart from the wound he had received from one of his opponents. It was mending steadily.

Rowena was also fine; far from being delighted with her marital prospects, the princess was strangely reluctant. He did not understand it, as it was quite obvious that she was not indifferent to Kai.

“And what of Cerdig? He’s the significant one.” 

“Cerdig? He’s pleased with himself. He revenged himself on Kai by fettering him to a wife.”

“No. I mean – what of the pact between Yorath and the Saxons?”

“Still standing, but shaky. Cerdig insinuated that this marriage was one way of strengthening it. Kai’s being used as a pawn.” 

“Hmmm, I see. By weakening my position, he tries to drive a wedge between Yorath and me.” I leaned back in my seat. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“What will you do about it, Arthur?” 

“Do? I’ll do nothing. Our alliance with Yorath is now more secure than ever. Yorath would not choose between two ‘friends’ before. Will he hesitate now in siding with his daughter’s family by marriage? Cerdig must be aware of that.”

Perhaps there was something more to this than met the eye. 

“Perhaps he is. Anyway, he gave his solemn word that you could attend the wedding without fearing for your life or the safety of this village.”

I did not trust Cerdig’s word. I had no reason to. The right hand sometimes denies what the left one has done.

Here I would stay.

*******

**Kai’s Tale**

The story that was spread around was that Rowena and I had secretly hand-fasted a few months before, but that Yorath had not been told, because his daughter feared his wrath, and I had reluctantly agreed to temporize.

Some weeks later, a lover’s quarrel had resulted in Rowena’s mock-betrothal to Mark; Arthur had learned of the ceremony and ensured that it did not take place, but he was not apprised of our situation. 

Rowena had finally confessed the truth to Yorath some days later, and all was then forgiven.

I wondered who would believe this pack of lies. They were ill-spun and the stitches showed. People would talk. On the other hand, as long as no one circulated the truth, I didn't care. My first duty was to shield Rowena's honor as it would also become mine to protect. As it was also my responsibility to preserve the treaties.

Regarding this last point, Arthur would be adamant.

That left a reluctant bride to placate and some explaining to do to my leader. I wondered which would be the hardest task.

Arthur, I could trust to grasp the new possibilities to his –and our– advantage. As for Rowena, I knew that she would have to be tamed and caressed like some of the wild horses her people were known to breed and train. It would take some time, but I wasn't afraid of failure. She _would_ strip herself of her pride and touchiness. She had no choice. Neither did I.

This gave us a mere fortnight to prepare for the rest of our lives.

*******

**Esyllt's Tale**

There is a saying that says that _minstrels stammer_ , for they sing the same story, again, and again, and again. 

I had seen Rowena return from Hecla’s village, and then from Mark’s, and for some reason it sprang into to my mind when Rowena came back from this journey too. But this one time, her bearing wasn't so proud. Her face was devoid of colour, as if she had been left to souse in a barrel of stagnant water.

Our men rode in the forefront; Llud and Kai clustered protectively near Rowena. Two other men, one with a black eye, the other dressed like a Cornish man, closed the procession.

Yorath moved forward to greet them. He had been seated before his hut for most of the day, his gaze never leaving the horizon to the east. When he saw them coming, he pushed the muzzle of the dog he was feeding aside, and rose without haste.

Our king had been in an especially bad temper of late; we had all wondered about it. He had every reason to be self-satisfied, what with the welcome respite his pact with the Saxons had given us. He had spoken of it endlessly, in the late hours of the night, when drink and joviality freely flowed in the feasting hall. However, the Saxon messenger who had reached our village a while ago had changed all that satisfaction into anger. We all heard Yorath yelling with increasing fury, but we could not distinguish any other word than ‘Rowena’ and ‘Arthur’. 

It was thus with an undisguised curiosity that we gathered in the courtyard to watch Rowena dismount. Without speaking a word, the princess, then, to our surprise, both Kai and Llud, went into Yorath's hut. The men who rode with them were as tight-lipped as the messenger.

Soon after, I was charged with checking Rowena’s travelling chests. That could only mean one thing – yet another wedding! The clothes that I had packed for her previous marriage ceremony had not been disturbed, so the task was quickly done, leaving us at liberty to discuss all of this at length; and to prepare the feast. Surely this time, Rowena would not escape? 

When at last the Saxon messenger departed, he finally quenched our thirst for information. It was not Arthur whom Rowena was to marry – it was Kai!

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

Was there ever a more wretched wedding? I had pictured myself giddy with joy and eagerness when the day came. Some kind of eagerness I felt, but no joy filled my heart.

I went through the motions like the wooden doll I had packed, along with a few treasured childhood relics, in one of my travelling bags. I had also kept my painted Knucklebones; Alaois had given them to me when I was five. They would serve as a reminder of my foolishness.

In contrast to my sourness, the whole village enjoyed the feast. There was food aplenty. Wine and ale flowed freely, and there was no lack of mead either. 

Our Saxons guests were not the last to joke, and sing bawdy choruses. Felix, Abbot of Gloucester, was escorted to the village and back by Cerdig’s best men.

The only one who wasn’t here was Arthur.

It pained me, but I was not surprised. The Celtic leader would be understandably wary of Cerdig’s underhanded dealings. Who knew if some of his lieutenants were not launching an attack against him this very day? Arthur’s first duty was to his people, I knew that. I hoped Kai knew it, too.

So Father handed me to Kai, along with a pair of my shoes. From now on, I would be as a guest under Yorath’s roof. Kai performed the tapping of the shoes, with an inappropriate twitching in the right corner of his mouth. I silently fumed.

I went down on my knees before Abbot Felix, next to my betrothed; I was adorned with my best blue dress, the same one I had worn the day when Cerdig’s man Woden was stabbed.

I meekly listened to the words that admonished me to ‘be good to Kai like Rachel, wise like Rebecca, and faithful like Sarah’. Kai slipped the ring first down my thumb, then my index, letting it finally rest on my third finger. I would wear it there until the day I died.

I spoke the words that made me chattel to my husband without noticeable emotion; nor was there any in Kai’s voice when he recited those that made me his wedded wife.

Afterwards, Llud kissed me on both cheeks, saying “I’ve always wanted a daughter.” He then added, “Arthur told me this: ‘Tell her I that I dearly wished for a sister.’”

It was little comfort in my hour of need.

*******

I clutched at the embroidered bed covering, pulling it to my chin when – among merry songs, coarse suggestions and guffaws – Kai entered our hut for the night. Anxiety was gnawing at my belly like poison ivy burns the skin.

My husband took off his boots, his belt and ceremonial weapons, and slid into the bed, still wearing his breeches and his tunic. The men’s comments grew louder. My attendants giggled.

When they were gone at last, I slowly let the covering drop. My gown was made of a thinner material than I had ever worn: it brushed my skin like a spider’s web. But I knew it was still too thick in my husband’s eyes.

Kai slid closer to me. His hands cupped my face, lifting it toward the light. 

I closed my eyes.

“Rowena, look at me.”

I did.

He knelt on the bed, tracing the outline of my throat with his hands then slowly they found the way to my breasts. I felt suddenly drowsy and wonderfully awake, light as a feather and eternal as the earth.

Kai whispered, “No more obstacles between us, Rowena. I want you, now, naked as a wife.”

He got rid of my gown and the bed rug, and leaned forward. Waves of heat and cold warred on my skin, hard-pressed against the leather of his breeches and stroked awake by his practised hands. I pushed them away and tugged at his tunic.

“You are overdressed, my husband,” I told him. 

Slowly, he obeyed. I helped him take off his tunic; afterwards I brushed my hands across his collarbone, making my way across his ribcage. He was as delightful to caress as I had fantasized he would be. My trembling fingers travelled over his bare skin, slowly tracing the firm lines of his chest. The more I touched him, the more I wanted to pursue my survey; the more I saw of him, the more incredibly beautiful he looked to me. As I stilled and leaned against his shoulder, suddenly petrified by nervousness, Kai took one of my hands and put it back where it had been, all the while nibbling my neck and shoulder. I quivered and snuggled closer, pushing myself against him so that my thighs rested on his. The feel of his skin on mine and his feathery touch made my head spin. I moaned as he kissed me, feeling my body respond as he held me closer to him.

Under his hands and lips, my body lost its previous chill; I could not get enough of him, losing myself in the sensations he created. Then came fire and thunder, whispers and cries; I floated along with his tide and was led in a slow dance that picked up speed, obliterating all other feelings. Even the pain and discomfort when he unlocked my gate faded in that moment of total completion.

When I awoke, my back was pressed against Kai’s chest and his hands were cupping my breasts. I yawned very loudly.

“A little nap isn’t enough for you?” Kai’s voice was peculiarly tender. I wriggled closer to him. I hadn’t expected to find him so nice – scorching, yes, but not so warmly comforting. His hold tightened around me.

I felt his hardening against my buttocks. His hands were sliding lower, down my sides, reaching for the secret place that already yearned for his touch, for his thrust.

He pushed me back on the bed, pinning me to the mattress; my mouth opened under his. Holy Mother, it was heavenly.

I wanted to learn his taste, his smell, everything that made him Kai.

I was an apt pupil, he told me.

This very night, he taught me how to ride.

*******

Happiness could not last.

At dawn, reality came crashing in on me when I took final leave of the life I had always known.

Esyllt and Ardra wept; they would not come with me to Arthur’s village. I would need no attendants now, being the consort of a Celtic warrior. There, I would no longer be Princess Rowena, but wife to Kai, son of Llud, and foster sister to Arthur. I would have duties galore, not privileges.

It was lucky I had learned so much in the last months, but I would still have to rely on some help for the cooking.

I embraced my friends, promised to visit as soon as I could, took formal leave of Yorath in the courtyard, and was helped onto my mare by Kai. His warm hands and warmer smile gave me reassurance.

At first, when we arrived at Arthur’s village, we settled into one of the guests’ huts. Our abode was still being erected, not far from Arthur’s longhut. It spread like a hawk’s wing from the main building, only separated from it by a small courtyard. Thus Kai’s status as Arthur’s brother was emphasised, while giving us privacy. 

Kai shared his time between the longhut and our temporary dwelling, as did I. We shared our meals with Arthur and Llud, and many were the nights when Kai did not join me, but spent part of the night drinking and talking with the men, then slept in his old bed. He said he had not wanted to awaken me by coming in late.

Was he finding as difficult as I did, to adapt to married life?

The little things puzzled me the most. Different ways bred different responses. I encountered them at every turn, noticing, after speaking my mind, the bewildered looks of the other women. How could I know what custom dictated here? I did things as I had always done. Even the folding of the clothes was different here. Some women were helpful, pitying my inexperience. Others overtly counted my mistakes, mocking my ways. I acted as if I didn’t care. One of them was peculiarly shrill and aggressive, and when I saw her looming from afar, I tended to retreat and go another way.

I had not understood how much I would miss my previous life. Even the shadows of the trees seemed different from what I had known. Try as I might, I still could not think of Arthur’s village as my home.

My days of riding all afternoon were at an end. Even having my own mare and freely using it was commented upon by the women, not always with kindness. The training of horses was a man’s task, as horses were for the warriors’ use. Moreover, there were so many chores that I had to supervise before settling in: the hanging of the wall curtains in our new home, the sweeping of the floor, the placing of the furniture – Kai had a new bed brought in.

I also found out that women were not expected to swim and I had to sneak away in order to indulge. In winter, the water was icy cold, but it did me good. After one brisk stroke, my blood flowed swifter in my veins, and I felt alive and strong. 

One afternoon, back from an invigorating dip in the lake, I met my female scourge on the path. My hair was tousled and my eyes shone; I felt like a young girl again. She remarked on it. I blushed guiltily. Unfortunately Gareth, my former suitor – who was visiting from the North, to consult with Arthur about the warriors on duty – came along the same path not a few minutes after I had slipped back through the gates. She saw that, too.

Women talked.

Kai grew stony.

*******

I had hoped that there would at least be peace between Kai and I. But as I desperately tried to get some reaction – anything at all, as long as he showed some sort of interest – something evil took hold of my tongue and never let it go.

Kai rarely thought to help me with the everyday chores, but apparently added to them as if I were his personal slave. As one of Arthur's household, he had benefited from all sort of female help, including the poor besotted fools who certainly hoped to ensnare him that way. To be entirely truthful, perhaps it didn't help that he had full days training new men and relentlessly patrolling the boundaries, but it was more than I could bear that he made light of the difficulties I waded through.

He even mocked me behind my back! When I reproached him about leaving dirty garments all about, I heard him mention humorously to Llud that, when a woman threw things at his head, he knew better than to try to dodge it: the bundle of clothes I had flung at him had missed by several feet. This was adding insult to injury.

I did not relent.

He was unfailingly courteous and patient with me, but cold as the chilly early winter mornings. And there was no changing his will once he had made up his mind. This infuriated me three times over.

This was not the Kai I had expected. At last, I knew he truly didn’t care at all about his wife. If he had, he would have shown some real anger or exasperation at my pestering, or asked me what was wrong. I knew it didn’t make things better, but I just couldn’t stop.

When night came, it was a different song.

Our bodies talked without words, so we didn’t waste any. I never uttered the endearments that women use, because they were unnecessary: Kai didn’t expect these from me, and I felt certain they would not be reciprocated. He never voiced them. So, why bother?

Such declarations of affection would put me at an even greater disadvantage, and I was already by far the weaker of us two.

*******

When life was too agonizing, I visited my father’s village. I needed these respites from Kai to replenish my fortitude.

Arthur concurred, not because he interfered in our marriage, but because it made perfect sense to him: I would one day be the leader of my people; it would be unwise to cut myself off. I also had to take good care of the lands that I had stealthily gained from Father.

No, Arthur never ever pried. But, one day, as I was carrying a heavy basket of clothes, still dripping from the wash, back from the lake, he took it from my hands, and asked, “Is everything all right with you, Rowena?”

I shrugged. “Is that the chieftain asking?”

“Can’t the brother ask?”

“Brother? Yes, he may ask. But do I have to answer?”

Arthur stopped walking and looked inquiringly at me.

“That bad? Is Kai so troublesome?”

“Arthur – I don’t want to speak about it. Not now, not ever.” 

I tried to wrench my burden back. Water was dripping onto Arthur’s boots and my feet were already wet. He let me have it. I balanced the load on my hip and went on. Arthur followed me.

As I spread the clothes onto the poles near my lodgings, Arthur said, “I’m worried about you. Is the having not as satisfactory as the wanting?”

“Perhaps, it isn't. I find married life very different than what I expected.”

“Kai is unlike anything you could imagine.” He laughed. “Truly, he still surprises me.” He shook his head ruefully. “He’s quite a handful, isn’t he?”

“Are you disparaging your second-in-command, my lord?”

“No. I’m assessing the one I love like a brother. I’m well aware of his faults. And I rejoice in his qualities.” He paused. “There are few men like him, Rowena. Treasure him. I do.”

With that, he went away.

I stood staring at him, wondering what kind of message he had tried to impart. Was he preaching me patience?

*******

**Arthur’s Tale**

That same evening, Kai joined us in the long hut.

The day had been taxing.

In the late afternoon, we had received word from Corin that the Picts were advancing into the northern territories. The latest skirmish had cost him dear: three of his best newly-trained men were dead, and he badly needed reinforcements to hold his own.

We could spare him a few men and two horses. They would go back with Corin’s envoy on the following morning; speed would be crucial.

The Picts were getting bolder all the time. Some sort of counter-attack would have to be devised, in order to drive them back, though we could never defeat them completely. They would come back. They always came back in greater numbers. Were they breeding like rabbits?

After weeks when I hadn’t touched it, I was half-heartedly continuing with some wood work – an elaborate carving on the rim of a goblet – when Kai came in. Such handiwork usually let me focus my thoughts when I was weary, but this time it didn't help; too many nebulous ideas battled in my brain, fighting to get the upper hand.

My brother, seeming similarly out of sorts, sat down with a scowl. Llud went to him and briefly put his hand on Kai’s shoulder. 

Kai looked up and nodded, at Llud and then at me. “Hard day”, he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“And a harder night to come.”

“Indeed.” I set my dagger and the goblet on the table and began to pace. My head was beginning to ache. I sat back.

It would take all night to make ready. I had already briefed the men we were sending, but we still had to make sure all the supplies were packed when dawn came. On the morrow, it would be judicious to check our own defences and organize supplementary patrols. In between, I’d still have to find a few hours’ rest; but I was too on edge to sleep right now.

Kai picked up my half-finished work, and turned the goblet round pensively. “Arthur, you’d better begin another one. There’s a defect in the wood. See, here, there’s a crack.”

There was. A thin crack line coursing all the length of the vessel spoilt it: it would never hold any water. This was a bad omen; and an ever more apt symbol of my strategies.

I clutched my head as the throbbing got worse.

Kai came to sit by my side. “What’s wrong?”

“My head’s hammering like Vulcan’s smithy. Perhaps I’d best lie down.”

Kai frowned. “You push yourself too hard.” 

“If you showed as much care for Rowena as you do for me –”

“You seem to care about her a bit too much. I saw you talking to her – meddling in my affairs!”

“What of it?” I said airily.

He sprang to his feet.

I turned to face Kai, and tried to rise, but a wave of light-headedness swept over me. My legs had turned to wool; I could not stand unaided, but had to lean on the table to steady myself. 

His anger evaporating, Kai hastily put a hand under my other arm to support me. He helped me to sit down. “Arthur – Llud! Come over! Quick!”

I was dimly aware of Llud coming out of our bedroom. He took my other arm, and with their help, I managed to reach my bed. I felt so nauseous, every sound echoing inside my head like a drumbeat. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I was lying flat on my back, and Kai and Llud were whispering by my bed.

“— could be worse.” “Lenni will —” “— rest will do him good — when — go with —” More garbled words I could not make sense of.

Inside this mist, I tried to grasp something which still eluded me. When I came closer, it retreated. It was maddening. There was something I was supposed to do, but I couldn’t quite remember what it was.

Then sleep came.

*******

It was daylight when I awoke. I felt curiously refreshed, even if traces of my headache lingered. My whole body ached as if I had outrun an army of Picts, but my mind had cleared.

Rowena was seated by my bedside, puzzling over some rips in one of Kai’s old discarded shirts. In the soft light, her hair shone as if made of polished wood.

“No need to mend that,” I advised her. 

“Arthur! You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Fine,” I lied. I sat up. It was more difficult than I thought. “Where’s Kai? Have Blyth and the others gone?” 

I tried to get up. An unexpected wave of dizziness prevented me.

“They have.” Llud’s voice came from the other side of the room. “We took care of everything.” He approached my bed and added, “Kai went with them for a few miles. He has doubled the sentries. We won't be surprised, this time. We are fully prepared.”

“Good.” I knew I was as useless as a child, with this curious weakness pressing on me. I settled back on the bed.

“Lenni just left. She’ll be back later with some draught. She wanted to know if you’d hurt your head lately.”

“Hmmm, I did, yes. But it was nothing. I was grazed by a spear when I trained with Mabon. Why? I felt almost nothing.”

“Have you had headaches since?”

I winced. “Too many, if you ask me. It’s never happened before.”

“And you didn’t see a connection?”

“What if I had?” I protested. “I can’t stay in here staring at the ceiling.”

“Yes, you can. And you will,” Kai said, coming forward. 

I had not heard him enter the room. He remained standing behind his wife. 

She looked up at him. “Kai, Arthur is being his usual obstinate self. You’ll have to sit on his legs so he cannot get up.”

Perhaps it was not such a bad idea. This would give me an excuse to converse alone with my brother. Something was eating at him and for _his_ ailing, I had the cure.

*******

I was twelve when I discovered that my leadership wasn’t even ever discussed. It was just the way things were, and usually, just one look from me was needed, to quell any insubordination.

This worked will all my men but Kai.

As long as I could remember, I’d had to battle endlessly with Kai to press my advantage. Haughtiness and remoteness didn’t intimidate him; Kai’s languid arrogance was impervious to those. Only battle wit and fearless skill impressed him. Under that suppleness of his ran strength, coiled like a snake, always at the ready. In his own fashion, his ways were as deceptive as mine. We were two of a kind; we became like brothers, burning with the same enraged fever, our open rivalry a thing to treasure and fear.

One advantage I had over him: I could strike with words as well as my sword, weaving silvery patterns that penetrated my opponents’ guard and brought about their defeat. Truth was another weapon I learned to manipulate to my advantage.

Kai was more straightforward. What he wanted, he went for, frontally, never doubting himself. It was not in his blood to hide his mind. However, in this instance, he proved obdurate.

I had thought to use my present disadvantage to good use. My prone position gave me an appearance of feebleness that would inspire his confidence; or so I believed. We talked first of the battle plans. I commended his efforts, asked the right questions and got the answers I was waiting for. No Pict, Scot or Saxon would take us unaware. I doubted it not. We had improved our warning system after Morcant’s failed attack.

His report finished, Kai fidgeted, then moved from the edge of my bed as if to get up. “I’ll leave you to your rest.”

I grabbed his sleeve. “Stay. Do you think I have no interest in the outcome of your other battleground?”

All I got for some moments was a bland stare.

“What do you mean?” Kai finally asked.

“The skirmishes you fight in the deep of the night.”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes.” As nothing more was forthcoming, I cautiously nodded. “It could make me a richer man yet.”

That got his interest.

“I wagered with Llud that Rowena would tell you her love when summer comes. He believes it will be sooner.”

“Llud’s a romantic fool. The cold endures.”

True, it had been a singularly harsh winter. Llud was relying on his ‘knowledge of the human heart’, but, while he has seen them embrace, I knew Rowena’s mind: her unflinching pride and her unshakable obstinacy. It would take some more time for her to give way. I believed that nothing short of a declaration of affection from Kai would melt her resolve.

I went on. “Care to bet?”

“What should I bet about?” 

“That she’ll thaw.”

Kai turned his head away from my scrutiny. “She already does. Several times a night.” He heaved a sigh. “But her heart is closed to me.”

He got to his feet and began to pace, displaying an agitation I had never seen before. The injury was deeper than even he knew. I had seen it festering for months, and nurtured it with little nudges, for only some awareness of it would push him into action. His pride was touched in this, but the thawing was not only needed on Rowena’s side. If Goda had played him like a love-sick fool, and Eithna led him by the cock, Rowena was reaching much deeper. If only the woman could see it, his trouble would be at an end.

“So, you would bet on it?” Kai glanced at me, hope dawning in his eyes. 

“So, there _is_ something you wouldn’t bet on?”

Suddenly, Kai smiled his old smile. “No.”

I had not seen that smile for many moons. It burned brighter than the torches. 

Then it faded.

“What are your stakes in this, Arthur?” 

“Not much. Only the future of the village.”

That struck home.

I went on, “I have no acknowledged son. If anything should happen to me, _you_ will be my heir.” I sighed. “I shall ask Brother Amlodd to draw up the charter as soon as possible.”

Kai was obviously stunned. “Is there perchance something you are hiding from me? This present sickness – you do not think it fatal?”

“No. But it never hurts to be cautious. Kai, I _need_ you to bridge your gap with Rowena.”

“Is filling _her_ gap not enough?”

“No, and well you know it.”

He left, thinking he was granting the wishes of a death-sick man. There would be time aplenty to disillusion him on that score.

*******

**Rowena’s Tale**

For once, the day was sunny, so, on the lame excuse of some domestic errand, I saddled my mare, Frige, and – looking out for prying eyes – slipped away from the village. I had an assignment with myself, a lake, and some serious thoughts.

Despite the sun, the cold was still lingering when I departed. Spring was slowly coming, green things opening unhurriedly to the light, as weeks went by. I was glad to see the days growing longer; the winter darkness weighed on me, stifling my brain with gloom. I wasn’t born to sit by the fire, focussing on fancy work. I always hated it. Stitching and mending were a chore I could not dispense with, but I’d had more than enough of it. Cooking I could do without. Cleaning saddles was much more to my taste.

With the softening of the earth would come new grass, and paths made for galloping at leisure. I hoped Kai would take me some day for a ride in the forest, just the two of us. I was weary of all those people, relentlessly around us. I longed for solitude with him in the daylight.

I idly wondered whether I would enjoy taking care of a young child. I still wasn’t sure of the answer. I was still unsure if I really wanted to conceive a child now, when my relationship with Kai was so uncertain.

I reached the farthest end of the lake. From this bank, I could still see the village, across the water, fumes billowing high above from the household fires; so far and yet so close: reminding me where my ‘home’ now was, but letting me be myself, for a while.

I dismounted, pulled a rug out of the saddlebags, and sat on it, lazily watching the clouds go wherever they wanted. My unfettered mare began to graze, not far from where my hand rested. I stroked her nose.

The silence was bliss. I dozed a little, daydreaming about Kai and what I would tell him tonight.

It was mid-afternoon, while I was packing the rug back in the bag, when something cracked in the underbrush. 

My mare bolted.

A hand clamped over my mouth, and I was pulled backward into the water, but I managed to let go one piercing cry before I had to stop from lack of breath. The man’s fingers were squeezing my mouth and his arm was pressing against my throat. I kicked and struggled and tried to bite him; when I was released, I thought for an instant that my efforts had been rewarded.

I fell to my knees, my hands to my throat; it felt as if breathing would never be easy again. 

Then I passed out.

*******

The face watching dispassionately as I struggled for consciousness was utterly unknown to me.

I was still uncomfortably wet. It was pitch dark, and I was seated against a tree, my hands secured behind the trunk. I could feel the bark against my back, and the pull of the rope. A wet cloth filled my mouth. My clothes were clammy-cold and I desperately wanted to piss. The back of my head hurt. My feet were bare; gone were my boots and the dagger I always slipped in the left one. It had served me well in the past, but I would have to do without it.

The woman touched my cheek then got up. She was wearing my boots. She told an unseen person, “She’s awake now.”

I heard footsteps. I still saw nothing but the outlines of things. The man was not dressed like a Celt, nor was he a Saxon. When he addressed me, he was slurring his words so much that I had to concentrate to understand his meaning.

“You’re not fair, but you’ll do.” He knelt next to me, and took the gag out. Suddenly he roughly pulled my hair. I yelped. He inserted his fingers in my open mouth and felt my teeth. I was so shocked that I was late biting him.

He laughed wickedly. “Ah, but you are a feisty little one, eh? There won’t be any fight left in you by the time we reach the sea.” He fondled my thigh, sliding his hand up the inside. I clamped my legs shut.

The woman behind him hissed. 

The man stood up and said, “For that, you’ll spend the night as you are.” He stuffed the rag back into my mouth. 

I almost swallowed some of the fabric, and began to cough.

Footsteps faded away.

I lost no time. I twisted and tugged at the ropes. But the knots were too tight. My wrists were raw and throbbing with pain when I finally gave up. I dozed fitfully, the wetness under me, another humiliation. I had had to relieve my bladder as I was; I would not stoop to beg the woman for a temporary release. She didn’t sound like a compassionate one, anyway.

*******

By daylight, I had lost all hope of escaping by myself.

My ‘new master’ as he called himself with puffed-up pride, was none other than the Greek trader whose plans I had thwarted. He had not known who I was when he happened upon a lone woman in the wilderness. When he had dragged me away, he had not recognised my face.

It was my own stupidity that sealed my fate. I told him my name, hoping that a ransom would tempt him to release me. But neither gold nor silver weighed more than the revenge he would now take on me. I had humiliated him before his slaves, robbed him of a good bargain and lost him his prized barrel of wine. I would pay for it.

The barrel of wine Yorath wanted so much would cost him his daughter. And he would never know it.

*******

I was shackled up with two other women. One was from the east, a fair Saxon girl of no more than fifteen. She had gone alone in the meadows, hoping to meet her lover. Her father did not approve of the alliance, and she took her pleasure when she could. The other, a russet-haired older woman, I never knew anything about. She did not open her mouth except to wail and to eat what little food we were given. We had to eat like animals out of the bowl; our hands were never untied. The Greek woman who had stolen my boots forced her own shabby pair, full of holes onto my feet. This was an added ache, as they were too tight and pinched my toes when I walked.

After a week of travelling westward, days and nights were beginning to become blurred. We had first travelled on foot, each one pulling the other, awkwardly trying not to falter on the path. If one fell, the others followed. The Greek’s slaves and helpers did not help us rise, but sneered, when one of us staggered.

We finally reached a river. A longboat of Saxon design was waiting for us. On it, barrels and chests were neatly piled. Sacks were propped on the sides. We had to get on board; all three of us huddled on the bow side. The Greek’s woman went proudly to the helm, and stood next to her companion.

I knew what would happen to me. It was the same fate I had spared the five Saxon women who now lived in Father’s village. I would cross the seas, and if I survived the crossing, I would be auctioned in a distant land, with strange customs, where I would never feel the bracing cold of winter. And I had thought it difficult enough moving from my village to Kai’s...

What price could I fetch? More than two pigs and the hides of ten deer? If so, my lot would be improved: at least, my new owner might take care of an expensive purchase.

Kai did not come.

At first, I’d hoped that he would follow my trail. By evening, at the latest, he must have known that I was missing. If Frige went back to the village, he would think I had been unseated, and search for me. 

Surely our trail wasn’t yet so cold he could not follow it? At least, Llud would have picked it up.

_Kai didn’t really try. He is better off without me._

I looked at the water. It would be so easy now to jump overboard. No better opportunity would present itself. I was sure I would sink immediately, drawn to the bottom by the weight of my fellow prisoners. They could not swim, I knew. Their fear of the open water was obvious; the boat was low on the river and they shuddered each time a little water slopped over the sides. But whatever my distress, I could not cause the death of two innocent women. I had to wait for a better opportunity.

*******

The boat stopped for the night. We had almost reached the sea. I could smell her salty fragrance in the breeze. Soon it would be too late to escape.

At last, an opportunity presented itself – or so I thought.

We were usually left on board, among the other cargo, shackled to the sides. That night, as I was falling asleep, one of the male slaves untied my fetters, shushed me, and pointed to the bank. I got up and followed him as furtively as I could. He led me farther away, near a bush that concealed me from view.

My surprise was short-lived. It was not compassion that had prompted his actions. It was the Greek’s orders. Another man was standing next to him, another of his slaves.

The Greek trader took a step toward me. I could not run; the slave who had led me there was holding my forearm in a vice-like grip.

Hoping that, even if only out of jealously, the Greek’s woman would come to my aid, I opened my mouth to scream, but the slaves forcibly stifled my shrieks, and dragged me down on the grass, holding my arms. A rock was lodged under my shoulder blade, bruising it. The grass was wet and icy. One of the men put a dagger to my throat. Foolishly, as a matter of pride, I struggled. I was outnumbered, but still I would not submit.

“Lie still, little fly!” The Greek moistened his lips. 

His touch was as oily as his words.

“My husband will hunt you down, and kill you for that!”

The men merely grinned. 

Then, out of the blue, a voice I had despaired of ever hearing again rang out: “The woman told the truth. She’s mine.”

Kai raised his axe. The Greek trader stepped back a pace; his breeches slid down around his ankles, getting in the way. Futilely, he unsheathed his sword.

The slaves let go of me, and ran.

I stayed where I was, frozen into stupidity.

There was an echo of metal resounding against metal; and then silence, until Kai bent over me. “Rowena, are you hurt?”

I croaked, “No. Just a bit bruised, I think. And my dress; it is torn. I —”

“You also stink to the skies,” Kai added conversationally, “but I’m glad to see you in one piece.” 

My teeth started chattering, not so much from the cold of the night, as from the fear. Everything had happened so fast.

“Can you walk?” Kai asked me.

“Yes.” 

Slowly, I got to my feet. I still felt wobbly, but I refused his help to get back to the horses. He had led Frige all the way from home for me.

“The Greek?”

“He won’t ever again trade on our shores.”

I left it at that.

The slaves and the Greek’s woman had fled by the time we got back to the boat.

Kai set the women free. They declined to come with us. I was so drained no longer cared what would become of them.

*******

I bathed in the river, near the boat, and dressed in the clean clothes Kai had brought with him for me. Oh! The joy of being clean again! But still, Kai had not tried to touch me.

How stupid could a girl be? I could walk to the East from the sea to Londinium three times over, and not find one as rash as I. What had my hard-boiled obstinacy won me?

Nothing, but to put the lives of those I loved at risk. I was lucky I had escaped one more time with my life and my freedom. I didn’t deserve even the cold kindness Kai showed me.

Obviously Kai was beginning to believe that he could have done better by not marrying me, and taking his chance with Cerdig. The only reason he had not repudiated me was to preserve Arthur’s precious alliance.

This lame union was to continue, until death would release one of us. But all the while, I would still be the one enslaved. Kai would be free to roam his heart’s content, as he surely was doing already. Who could blame him? No one would. Barren heart, shrewish words and cold manners never enticed any man to his wife’s bed. I would end up alone in it, for the rest of my life.

I didn’t doubt Kai would fulfil his share of the bargain. In him I would find helper and warrior king when I became queen of my people. But if things with Kai did not improve, I doubted there would be anyone of my blood to succeed me, when my time came to abandon this life. I wished I were already dead.

Perhaps now was the time to grow up and let my illusions fall away, along with the leaves the trees shed in the autumn. I should accept the inevitable and be grateful for the kindness and casual affection Kai gave me. Most women were not that lucky.

Next to me, the object of my desire rode easily. We cantered through a clearing. The wind ruffled the high grass; the air was still moist with the morning dew. Our gait accentuated Kai’s grace – the easy balance of his movements. The breeze tousled his blond hair across his neck. How I longed to caress it! My inner eye was full of a naked Kai, smiling naughtily, stretched on the bed furs. _In your dreams, Rowena._

We had set out before dawn. There were few words exchanged between us. It was easier than I expected to fall back into our initial relationship: big strong warrior rescuing silly frail female, only this time from the slaver, not from Hecla. In a way, the resumption of our old pattern was a relief. I don’t think I could have borne another day of bickering, veiled insult and thin contempt. Better this remoteness than any awkward friction.

“The hills begin up north. We’ll stop there tonight to rest the horses and make camp. If we make very good time, we can be home at sundown in three days.”

I turned my face toward Kai. This was the first sentence he had uttered since we started, apart from the queries he had made to my fellow slaves, and the urging of his horse.

“As you wish,” I replied.

“What? No questions? No demands?”

“No. I’ve learned my lesson, Kai.”

“Have you, Rowena? What lesson would that be?” 

“I can know my own mind, and voice my opinion, but I am finally more content to leave the running of things to you.” Unpalatable as that truth was, it was indeed the truth.

He snorted. “When you’re home, you’ll sing another song.”

We rode in silence.

By midday, we stopped and broke our fast.

As I was dousing the fire, Kai stored away the remaining bread in his saddlebag. He mounted his horse. From his vantage point, he asked me, in an even tone, “What made you do it, Rowena?” 

I could not answer him.

He insisted. “Were your days so unbearable that you had to ride away alone, without thinking of your safety?”

I considered the ashes beneath my feet. “No, I just needed the quiet. I wanted to think.”

Kai appeared to consider this quite dispassionately for a moment. “What about?”

“Me. The life I led. Us.” I gestured. “I needed to know my own heart.”

“And do you, now?”

“I — I’m not so sure anymore.”

“So, what it is you really want?” 

“Well, I once told Arthur I was born to be a Queen. But I don’t want a king, after all. A blond Celt Warrior is worth more to me than any King.”

There, I had said it.

Kai didn’t move. His face expressed nothing. 

My heart sank. I mounted my mare and turned her head, directing her toward home. Pebbles rolled under her feet. _Just like my heart_ , I thought. I’d had my last draw at Knucklebones. I had lost.

“Get down from your horse!” Kai said brusquely.

“Errr?” I turned, and saw he had dismounted.

“I said, get down from your horse. Now!”

My limbs turned to ice. I couldn’t move. Kai reached for me, grabbed me by the waist and roughly pulled me down.

I was feeling quite unsteady on my feet, but I snuggled against him as he kissed me, as if I had already done it a thousand times. In my dreams, I had.

“I suspected as much.” He smiled down at me. He got to it again.

I felt quite faint. I grabbed at his shoulders so I would not slide in a heap to the ground. One has to keep hold of one’s dignity, you know.

“How —? When —?” My tongue was stuck to my palate; I could not utter the simplest sentence.

Kai’s lips parted. He paused, appraising me from head to toes. 

I flushed. 

“When did I know you loved me?” He laughed. “My sweet, it was the worst ever guarded secret in the village. I guess some are losing their bets by now. _I_ ’ll be much wealthier by sunset.”

I pulled away in disbelief.

“What? Do you mean, you — you had a bet going on my falling at your feet, with —,” I spluttered. “Of all the inconsiderate, vain —” I tried again. “You are the most —”

I could not go on; Kai was kissing me again. After a very long, very pleasurable and very breathless interval, I pulled away. Kai’s laughter was in his mouth still. 

The expression in his eyes made me catch my breath. There was need in them, and something else. Something I had waited for a very, very long time to see.

Kai’s eyes turned mischievous. “I cannot tell you when I fell in love with you. I guess I was in the middle of it when — it grew on me, I suppose.”

“Oh, you’re so very flattering.”

“I haven’t even begun to be nice, trust me,” he said, and kissed me hard. This time, it was even more satisfactory.

Kai drew me back toward the horses, caressing my rump as he did so. “Let’s get going. Your father’s waiting for us. He must be frantic by now. He sent search parties all around his own territories.”

“And Llud, I suppose. And, err — Arthur …”

“Arthur? Hmmmm. Any regrets, woman?” He looked possessively at me.

I felt no stirring of the old anger. In our difficult world, a woman must be a realist. She has to make do with what is given her. Well, who was I kidding? I loved every minute of his jealousy.

“Stop it! I won’t be bullied. If you believe for one moment, I wanted you because I — because Arthur would not —”

“Who? Me? No.”

Surely, the man was insufferable. And utterly irresistible. Damn him.

“Arthur’s a problem, though. He’s going to be a real pain, and try to take all the credit.”

That, I could easily believe. “Well, let him guess for a while. It’ll do him good not to know, for once.” I laughed. Arthur’s smirk flitted across my inner eye. It brought to my mind another problem. I contemplated how to solve it quickly. Father would state that I got my just reward for meddling with the Greek trader and the Saxon women. He would be absolutely beside himself with rage. I’d have to placate him.

“Perhaps, I’ll need to cook something else for Father, too.”

Kai’s face was a study.

**_Finis._ (Part III)**

  
**Notes for Part III**

“Besides, there was no remedy, as the couple had publicly shared the same bed for a half-moon.”: I stretched things a little. It’s a shorter span of time than for a usual hand-fasting, but, as Rowena is a princess, it is nonetheless as binding.

Felix, Abbot of Gloucester: he was send for to celebrate Kai’s wedding to… Goda, in _Enemies and Lovers_ (S1 E9). Gloucester was then in Saxon territories.

Rowena and Kai’s marriage is tied according to Saxon and Christian rites. As Jutes are a Germanic tribe, I drew on that. Scholars have no real idea of the marriage rites in the late 5th-early 6th c.

“Naked as a wife”: A voluntarily anachronism. In the medieval times, adultery could also be substantiated by the fact that the lovers had not the time to entirely take off their clothes… contrary to a lawful marriage. This evidence was still used in the ‘Criminal Conversations’ cases in the 18th century. The sentence is a reference to that, meaning that Kai takes his marriage very seriously. Being a State marriage, it has to be consummated that night.

“I was grazed by a spear when I trained with Mabon”: An in-joke about Oliver Tobias’ real life injury, being hit by a spear on the head, while filming _The Challenge_. In my story, Arthur suffered a slight concussion.

“I cannot tell you when I fell in love with you. I guess I was in the middle of it...”: A tongue-in-cheek rewriting of a famous Jane Austen sentence.  



	4. Knucklebones - Part IV

**Rowena’s Tale**

We came home. 

Llud beamed. Arthur said nothing in particular, but his whole bearing showed how glad he was to have us back, reconciled and content. We could not hide it; Kai was smiling too much and I was in a buoyant mood.

Kai bought me a magnificent Roman necklace with his winnings. It was made of filigree gold orbs and carnelian beads and very heavy. I would never wear anything Greek in my life ever again, so I regretfully made a gift to Lenni of the two Greek dresses my father had given me as a wedding present; she was very glad of it.

Father scolded me, but he was the only one. I forgave him his bellows, knowing that they were inevitable after the great scare I had given him. No father was ever so glad to be rid of the everyday care of his daughter, he grumbled. I surprised him a great deal by kissing him on the cheek.

Winter endured. After a brief thaw, the cold made another assault. I enjoyed the few days in between that let the sun shine through the clouds; usually the sky seemed as heavy as a lid on a cooking pot. But I didn’t care that much; I welcomed any weather which gave me the excuse to nestle against my husband.

My belly slowly increased, but I did not tell Kai the reason for it. I savoured being his wife and I was not looking forward to becoming only the mother of his child. He would be happy, I knew, but I wanted to keep things as they were, for a little while longer: just the two of us, with no impediment between us.

The nights were ours. We inhabited a realm where no one could intrude. How can you explain happiness? I was glad he was mine, entirely mine, as I was his. I swiftly lost all coyness and discovered my own needs: a hunger that claimed his own, a desire responding to Kai’s. All that – and more – he gave me. For Kai blatantly wanted me, and I responded with the same boldness. I often wished the nights were longer, for he gave me repeated proofs of the strength of his caring.

One night, I finally admitted, “I wanted you since the first moment I saw you. I was very brazen, for I wanted you even before I really knew you and, definitely, before I ever really loved you.”

He smiled mischievously. “What’s wrong with that? Do you know where love truly begins? We also feel it through the body, through our bare skin and with our touch. Did you ever touch me without love?”

I had not. How could I?

“You see.” He demonstrated, letting his fingers weave circular patterns upon my belly, and then sliding lower… considerably lower. “Yes?”

“Yes”.

During daylight we often went our separate ways: Kai mingled with the other warriors and I concerned myself with the duties of a wife and expectant mother. Lenni knew; there was no escaping those bright, merry eyes and swift understanding. She helped, but even she could not prevent the bouts of sickness and faintness I sometimes felt.

When they relented, I decided to visit Yorath for a while. Soon, riding would be out of the question, and I wanted to break the news to him myself. I also wanted to consult Esyllt; she, too, knew secrets that could ease my female troubles, and I was still enough of a Jute to value her advice.

When I was set to go, I told Kai. He had known, he claimed, and wondered when I would ever speak the truth! Would I disclose the obvious when I could no longer see my feet? Questioned how he knew, he glibly answered that he was acquainted with, and loved, every outline of my body and that he could not miss the slight swelling. Touching as his words were, I could not help being disappointed at not breaking it to him.

Kai grinned. “Would you have me less attentive?”

‘No, but sometimes, a little blindness is not at all inappropriate in a husband.” 

He embraced me. My bones melted under his fingers, as they always did. I murmured, “Why is it always even more pleasing as times goes by?” 

“Practice makes perfect.”

I playfully slapped him. “You are very conceited, husband.”

He caught my hand in mid-air, and placed it round his waist. Then we stopped speaking.

I rode away the same day; that was why I missed seeing Arthur get his comeuppance.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

I walked for two days before I encountered human life. I had no idea where I was, or whether the storm had blown us very much off course. Philippides had promised me he would set me ashore in Cornwall. I did not even know if the dead man had fulfilled his undertaking. 

My clothes had dried upon me; the salt irritated my skin, and I dearly wished for a bath. Much more troublesome: I had no means to hunt for food or to start a fire; besides, I was unarmed and feared drawing unwelcome attention to myself. 

The two riders who rescued me were Celts. The elder one had a very sweet smile. The other, a blond giant, was a dangerous man. I knew it instinctively, and yet I could not help antagonizing him.

It began with white lies: when he asked my name, I said I was Benedicta, daughter of Caius Camillus. I did not tell him about my maternal parentage nor the reasons why I was stranded in this cold, harsh, barren, forsaken country. For all I knew, they were enemies of Cador of Cornwall, and my falling into their hands would do my cousin no favours. I also disclosed I came from Gaul – that much was true – but I hid the reasons of my desperate flight and my lack of knowledge of their territory. Let them think I was on my way to Isca Augusta, or any other such place.

They took me to their camp. They had no chariot, so I had to ride. Thus my trials began.

The chieftain of the place was a dark-haired young man, not much older than me. I took an instant dislike to him. His shrewd eyes belied his age; his haughtiness was as great as mine – who did he think he was? – and his courtesy was a sham. I knew then that I would find him an implacable adversary. Arthur was his name.

Neither my titles nor my lineage impressed the barbarian. I would have to fend for myself, he told me with relish. I had to bite back the real retort I would have let fly if I were not in such straits. Two months would be a long time to spend here, but at least, the fabled hospitality of the Celts would stretch to accommodate a lone Roman woman. I wasn’t confident that would hold, if he learned who I really was.

While we traded insults, the tall blond man, whose name was Kai, was openly deriding me. I detested him too.

********

Closer acquaintance with Arthur did not improve my opinion of him. He kept jeering at me. Though he was considerate enough to show me how to skin a rabbit, so I would not starve, this did not redeem him in my eyes.

He obviously thought me a pampered, shallow aristocrat, unable to fend for herself. How was he to know that this same hopelessly impractical patrician had arduously journeyed through northern Gaul, encountering rotting corpses, estates that were charred or still in flames, eviscerated cattle and raiding marauders on her way? I was no stranger to blood and carnage: I had seen them very closely. If I had never eviscerated anything in my life, I could learn fast, even if it conjured scenes of horror I preferred not to dwell upon.

However, the Celt chieftain wasn't totally mistaken. I had never lacked for obliging servants – or slaves – to obey my commands, but I had one advantage he didn't know about: my distant ancestors were peasants from the Latium, companions to Numitor, then King of Alba. These peasants were also warriors: they joined Romulus and ended up carving a kingdom for themselves with their swords. The kingdom became a Republic – then an Empire – but they never quite lost their down-to-earth adaptability. I would survive, as they did.

To honour my ancestors’ memory, I skinned the rabbit, cooked it, and I even wolfed it down. However disgusting the meal, you had to eat when you could. I had heard endlessly repeated this first rule of survival by Tullius, during my long journey.

I even set fire to the hut. For my pains, I earned a very cold bath.

********

**Kai's Tale**

I saw at once that the woman meant trouble.

We held a hand out to her, and she bit it like the she-wolf she was. It was fitting; wasn't a wolf the foster-father of her ancestors? On the outside, she was very lovely, in a washed-out way: her eyes were the colour of the sea and her hair was coloured like the sand on the beach where she washed up. This frail appearance was a lie; underneath she was as deadly as a fall from a sea cliff.

And she was very much afraid. This, I could see at once, hidden in her biting words and haughtiness, and in the stiffness of her carriage when I tried to ride with her.

Her confrontation with Arthur was a thing to behold. I was glad I had come back to my old abode in Rowena’s absence. Since our leader crossed words with Eithna I had never witnessed the like. Arthur had unadulterated fun, taunting her. It did him good to tease; God knows he didn’t often get the chance for honest merriment.

It didn’t last.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

I believed I would be bored out of my mind in this destitute village, but to my great surprise, I wasn’t. I had no time to be.

I had never fully understood how tedious and time-consuming everyday chores could be – at least, when I tried to do them. Everything had seemed to run so smoothly when I was the _domina_ , supervising and ordering the tasks from afar. I knew enough to demand; that was all that was ever required from me. In Arthur’s village, I had to share the efforts, but I liked it well enough – for the present, at least. Somehow I hoped I would be treated according to my status when I finally got to Cador's.

Slowly, seeing how I was applying myself to the tasks, the women began to speak to me with cordiality. It cheered me more than I would have thought possible. They were generous and very pleasant, if not well-versed in the art of conversation, as I had been.

I missed music and intelligent exchanges the most. Being mistress in my husband Aurelianus Gracchus’ house, I was the hostess to his friends, men of substance, administrators, courtiers and soldiers – among them were even some prelates from Gregorius' Court. We talked politics and gossiped about the latest schemes at the Senate. I basked in the conversations, pleased to listen to their arguments. They say a true woman’s place is at the hearth, but my husband recognised my hunger for knowledge and satisfied it.

I also mourned the loss of my books in the shipwreck. I had taken some scrolls with me, picked up from my former husband’s library, securely bundled in one of my trunks. Sea weed would be nesting among the papyri by now. I had to rely on my memory: snatches of poetry and plays came back to me, in between what I had to do in order to survive. 

It was almost a relief to be dared to ride by that impossible, arrogant, vain, stuck-up Celtic peasant.

********

Even the trees were hostile. I caught my tunic on a projecting branch, and a bit of cloth was ripped clean out of the sleeve. It was very annoying. I would have to sew it back tonight, and my skills weren't of the first order yet. Fortunately, it wasn't blown away by the wind, and I turned my horse around so I could snatch it back from the tree.

Arthur stopped me. He slid to the ground with that unusual and visually arresting style of his, never taking his eyes away from mine, and told me: “We have a saying. Wherever we leave a piece of ourselves, we will return. One day you’ll come back to this place.”

I laughed, “Superstitious Celtic nonsense.” 

I dismounted in my turn, and Arthur’s arms were ready to catch me. I smiled at him, still exhilarated by the ride. His arms enclosed me but I hardly noticed: he was so close that I was as intoxicated by the feel of him. Before I could shake off this dangerous whim, Arthur bent his head and swiftly kissed me. The kiss was fierce but very pleasing; although I didn’t return it at first, I wasn’t wholly passive under it.

When he released me, I slapped him. I had not felt the urge to make such a childish gesture since I was a girl. To cover my confusion, I called him “ignorant savage” and “barbarian”. I spoke out loud the denigrations I had repeated to myself nightly before falling into slumber, to remind me of my old self.

My haughtiness did not impress Arthur. If anything, my histrionics entertained him.

As I turned from him to get back on the horse, I felt myself being drawn back into his embrace. I could not move even my head, for his left hand held the back of it securely, while the other crushed my waist. I lost all power to struggle. I pushed my head back into his hand, feeling myself tumbling into the unknown.

Arthur didn’t even try to look repentant.

“My humblest apologies; I forget myself. I am a barbarian and to prove it —”

His eyes took a steely glint, “— let me show you how we barbarians really treat our women.”

He kissed me anew. The change in his voice, now humourless and shaking with white anger told me that I had better yield to the inevitable. I could not fight both his desires and mine. There was no mistaking the instinctive knowledge of the flesh, the attraction that I had hidden from myself for days. If he had touched me before, I would have known the futility of struggle.

His hands loosened their hold when I relaxed.

I would not go down without a fight, so I protested, “You Celtic peasant!”

All of a sudden, my surrender was complete. I returned all his fevered kisses; my pride was gone and my combat was at an end. The walls came down, and the crash was indeed glorious.

********

I cannot recollect precisely the days and nights that followed. I was living in a blur, impervious to anything and anyone who wasn’t Arthur. I entirely lost myself in him, and he in me.

I didn’t care about the whispers and the surprised looks of the villagers. I forgot about him being a Celt, and I, a Roman in his eyes. In fact, I forgot everything: my past, my father, my duty and my trepidation. I cared no longer about all the unsaid things I had to tell Arthur, the forgiveness I would have to beg for my deception, or the political alliances that my presence might overthrow. I didn’t give a damn about Kai’s sardonic smiles, or the women’s truculence.

All I knew was that I wholly belonged to Arthur and that he was slowly beginning to be mine.

One day we hardly got out of bed, snuggled warm and close between bouts of lovemaking, listening to the drizzle of rain falling on the roof, and talking about ourselves and our dreams: an unveiling more perilous than the discarding of our clothes. It was not the only one; I was slowly unfolding myself, scroll after scroll of previously untold tales now recounted and shared. It was a thrilling and magnificent feeling, this revelation of my soul. It was terrifying.

Arthur talked to me about everything, and expected me to be interested in it. It made me so very happy: I had thought he despised women like many of his kind do, and it was a delightful relief to find out that he didn’t feel threatened by a sound mind or a little ingenuity. But I could be silly, too.

The first time I led him into the throes of passion, I was surprised by his readiness to abandon himself to me. Roman men cannot abdicate their might, let it be it in bed or at the Senate; they have to be on top. It gave me no small sense of power to hold him in my hands and pleasure him with my mouth and my fingers, understanding his desire and satisfying it to the full. Arthur never lost his sense of self: he was man enough not to need any superficial reassurance. And he was not reluctant to relinquish control to my body and our common need, for he took as much as he gave.

His yearning for me was as strong and as enjoyable to me as mine was to him. It was an unending renewal of passion. I was overcome by his tenderness and his strength, the urge he revealed when he possessed me and the ecstasy that took us both to the same heights.

I felt my old life burning away. But the flames burned too high. Could they endure? I feared they would not.

Somehow Arthur knew of my fears. One night, as we were lying spread-eagled side by side, utterly spent, he told me, “I shall never let you go. You shall be mine for ever and a day.’’

I took his hand in mine. “I am yours for ever, you can see that. This is what I really want.” I sighed. “However strange it may seem, I felt it the first time you kissed me. I could not fight it anymore. Now, I fully know what it means.”

But I was afraid. The Gods, be they the old ones or the One God, are always jealous of human felicity.

********

**Arthur’s Tale**

Kai was incredulous at first. After that, he spent the next two weeks provoking me. And well he might, for I had fallen under the spell of the woman ‘who could trample us under foot if she got half the chance’. 

I even provided Benedicta with the power to do it, if she so chose: I asked her to be mine. I half-expected surprise, disapproval, coldness, silence, anything; I had not expected this, this unmistakable delight. She stayed silent for a heartbeat, before looking at me as if she had never comprehended me before, as if she saw me for the first time, and said very quietly she would. It was only a word, but said in such a manner that I didn’t doubt that it encompassed all her feelings for me.

That same night, when I went back to the longhut, I was welcomed by a very disgruntled Kai. In Rowena’s absence, my brother had claimed back his old bed. Was it for old time’s sake or displeasure of his empty marriage bed, I don’t know, but if it were for the former reason, I had utterly ruined things for him. I had not spent more than a few hours, sleeping in my own bed; gone were the companionable hours of talk, drinking and gaming we had previously enjoyed.

For once, when I came in, Kai and Llud were both awake. Kai, being Kai, welcomed me with an irritated “To bed before dawn. You sickening for something?”

 _He who laughs last laughs best_. I divested myself of my cloak and poured myself some mead. And then I launched my spear: “Best start thinking about where you will build yourself a new hut.” It reached its target, as I knew it would.

Behind my back, I felt Llud’s surprise and Kai’s puzzlement.

“New hut?”

“Benedicta and I will need this one.”

I faced them. They were dumbfounded. Once more, I had taken them unaware. I liked it.

I told Kai he would have to send word to the Abbot, and Llud that he would have to take Benedicta’s father’s place. She had never spoken to me of him, but I surely wouldn't wait till he reached our shores to have his blessing and wed his daughter. We both were of age and we could do as we pleased.

Kai’s grin lit up the room. He slapped me good naturedly on the shoulder, called me a ‘fool’ and shoved me onto my bed. Llud assisted him, and I ended up in an undignified heap, chuckling all the while at their reaction. Things were looking good.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

Arthur wanted me for his wife. He asked for my hand; I gave it willingly. I was as grateful as I was happy.

I felt the old me falling away like the discarded skin of a snake. However, deep down inside, I feared. 

I had reasons to be afraid. Nestor had picked up my trail.

********

Nestor did not leave me much choice. I had to go back or face the consequences: letting Arthur and his people suffer because I had erroneously believed that I was free from the past. If I resisted him, I knew Nestor would take care to leave only ashes behind him when his soldiers departed. I had seen first-hand what he was trained to do. Some of the destruction I had witnessed before was not only the Lombards’ doing.

Nestor: Caius Camillus’ main counsellor; his procurer and right-handed man. Ill-named Nestor, a man who bore no likeness at all to the fabled King of Pylos, but who was as devoted to my father as the old legendary Nestor was to Achilles. The same man who had wrested me from my brother’s body. The hardened soldier who had obeyed my father’s orders to the letter. 

Caius Camillus was a monster, a proud offshoot of the old roots; these wicked, rotten outcroppings that had shattered the Empire. Of our fabled ancestors, only their vices and their folly remained, and Caius Camillus had those in plenty.

I was born from unhappiness and cruelty.

For her misfortune, my mother was beautiful. She was to marry one of her cousins in Cornwall, but my father saw her before the wedding and abducted her from her home in Armorica, and brought her back to Rome.

I don’t remember her very well. She died from a fever after being delivered of a son, my brother, two years after my birth. 

While an infant, I was left in the care of the slaves; I didn’t exist for my father, nonetheless I shared my brother’s tutors. I would be married off to a man of substance, so I would have to hold my own as a matron. Thus I learned many things besides the running of a house. 

When I was of age, I was married to a fellow senator of my father’s; Aurelianus Gracchus was a kind man and was good to me. The years I spent away from my father’s house were the happiest I had known.

My husband died. I was nineteen years old and childless, so I went back to Caius Camillus’ house. My brother Caius Marcus fought on the frontier and I rarely saw him, so Caius Camillus could give free rein to his immoral desires. It is said that Nero and Caligula were inspired by their madder gods. Father would have put them to shame.

He saw me one evening and mistook me for my mother. He was full drunk, I believe. My shoulders were bruised for days after that encounter. It never happened again, but I dreaded meeting him and I tried to avoid him like the plague. I could not do so.

I tried to flee. Nestor caught with me in Ostia as I was about to board a ship to Massilia and Gaul. As a punishment, he wickedly made a gift of the jewels I carried to the ship’s captain. Thus I was publicly humiliated, and without the immediate resources for another escape attempt. All the way back, he told me of Caius Camillus’s leniency: my father had the right of death over me, and he had chosen to let me live. The priest I confessed to did not tell me otherwise.

I was thought beautiful and a rich widow to boot. Some sought my hand in marriage, but Caius Camillus found means to rebuff them. I was his property, he stated, and he would rule me as he chose. Finally my father sent me to Gaul. Nestor escorted me there, a prisoner in all but name, to live in with just a few of my books and two servants at Autessiodurum, the remotest estate father owned, not far from the border, at the mercy of the Barbarians who still raided the countryside.

But my father had been unwise to send me to Gaul. For in Autessiodurum lived one who had known my mother and her story very well. And at that point, I was ready to listen to her tale and act on it: my messenger finally reached Cador in Cornwall, and my mother’s cousin offered me a safe haven.

In a desperate bid to reach my mother’s people, I had escaped. 

I wondered, not for the first time, whether the slaves who helped me run away still lived, and – if not – how they died.

********

The afternoon came and went. At nightfall, we were all seated in the longhut, Arthur and Nestor, Kai and Ludd and I, sharing food and wine. But the guests were traitorous and the hosts wary of them. _Timeo Danaos et dona ferentis_. [I fear the Greeks and their gifts] The Poet was right, as always. – but this Roman who came from Greece hadn’t even brought any gifts …

Nestor toyed with me, enjoying my apprehension. He smiled knowingly when I commended him. My father would know about his devotion, indeed.

When Llud pensively said, “They say Rome will forgive anything – except failure.” I almost snorted aloud for this involuntary deadly irony. The older man would have laughed too if he had known how right he was. It would definitely mean death to Nestor if he came back without me, alive or dead. It meant death to me whatever choice I made. The only choice I had was in the manner of my death, and I’d do better to die alone than drag along with me those who saved my life – and the man I loved.

Hastily, I tried to change the subject. It was best not to make Nestor too wary of Arthur. He who had killed my brother for disobeying our father would have no hesitation in slaying my lover. I’d have to sever all ties between us, as swiftly and deceitfully as Nestor would strike Arthur down if he ever suspected how deeply I cared. Best he thought I had found myself a plaything to while away the time…

So I babbled about Rome. “It may not be what it was in the great days of the empire, but it is still truly called the city of the Gods. Am I not right Nestor?” Without waiting for his assent, I launched into a paean of praise of Rome and of my father’s status, speaking of Apollo and Minerva, hoping that Arthur would catch my drift and understand that something was sorely amiss.

He did not. His face was as ominous as carved marble.

I had to try another way. I taunted him, “Arthur, you will love Rome.” That got his attention, as I knew it would, along with Kai’s and Llud’s.

At last Arthur led me authoritatively outside the longhut, away from Nestor’s presence. It was freezing cold, but like a summer’s day compared to the ice spreading in my heart.

The man I had hoped to marry looked at me as if I were a stranger, “Love Rome? But we live here.” 

I tried to look surprised and countered, “Here? But I thought–”

He stated, “I don’t know how it is in Rome, but here the woman shares the life with the man."

The old saying came haunting me, “ _Where thou art Gaius, I shall be Gaia_ ”. I would have sworn the old marriage vow to him with all my heart, were I ever to say it. Instead, I told him with seeming reluctance, “I want to share your life, but Arthur, I am a Roman.”

Arthur painstakingly explained to me, as if to a simpleton, “Benedicta, this is my land. These are my people. I am their leader.”

This gave me an opening; I struck the first blow. I knew him too well not to know how much it would injure him. I was already faltering so I had to make it quick before I crumbled. So I drew breath and struck below the belt, 

“But you have not seen Rome. You do not know how it will be for us. Arthur, Rome is a paradise where we will be treated like gods. I make you a promise; that before we’ve sailed one league from these shores, you will have forgotten that this land ever existed.”

My aim was good; it hit near the heart of the target. I could not have insulted him more deeply.

Arthur parried: “If you believe that, then we’ll never have known each other.”

I pressed my advantage. “Perhaps you’re right. I took you for a man.”

Because he was the man he was, he counter-attacked. “No, just a tame barbarian here to amuse you, until your Roman friends escort you back to civilization.”

This time, I went for the kill and I struck home.

“Ah.” I sneered, “Is that what concerns you? You fear that you will feel inferior.” 

My self-loathing and revulsion for my words dripped in my voice. Arthur heard it well, but he mistook it.

“The day I feel inferior to a Roman, I will cut my throat.”

The slaughter was a masterpiece. But it was the killer who died that night in the arena. I told you that I was no stranger to blood and destruction.

“Nestor tells me that the ship has arrived. We will leave tomorrow at daybreak.”

On that parting volley, I hurried into my hut. The folds of the curtain had not even fallen back into place when I burst into anguished tears.

********

The morning after, as I rode away, Arthur was standing in the courtyard, haughty and unmoving. He didn't even open his mouth to bid me farewell. I wouldn't have the solace of a lover's kiss or a last embrace. This was how I wanted it to be, but it hurt. How it hurt!

As I urged my horse forward, Arthur’s lips tensed in a weird little smile. I turned my head away, so as not to stare at him. The temptation was almost irresistible; I believed it would be the last sight of Arthur I would ever have in this life.

We marched away. The rest of Nestor's force was hidden in the nearby woods, away from Arthur's village. We would need them all if we were to get back safely to our waiting vessel at Isca Augusta. The place wasn't what it had been, but it would serve its purpose. Many ships still dropped anchor there, sheltered by the remains of the harbour the Roman first settlers had built.

As we rode, I lied to Nestor, with all the skill I could muster, disparaging Arthur and his people, emphasizing the scantiness of their living, drawing on my first appalled surprise at the conditions under which they existed. Yes, it was safer that way.

The road we took passed by that tree – the place where I had begun my journey of self-awakening. The little things sting the most; I was shattered into little pieces.

While I waited for Nestor to return from his reconaissance – some Picts having been spied in the vicinity – I told the soldiers, “Did you know that for bad wounds you use moss? Better than the leaves because it takes its strength from the tree. And in the spring the meadows are red with poppies –” 

How I had yearned for that glorious sight! I pictured the green slope interspersed with dots of bright red waving in the breeze, while we lay, like lovers, intertwined in the soft grass. I could almost feel the sun on my closed eyes and Arthur’s arms around me.

“– and the forests are full of flowers.”

I was a fool. 

I could not leave part of my soul here, and let an irrational fear of my father's shadow destroy all I had ever yearned for. My father was in Rome and could no longer hurt me. I was a grown woman and anyway, Arthur would protect me, as he had relentlessly done since we met.

“– And I really must discover what happens when you boil the leaves of a foxglove.”

I spurred on my horse and galloped in the direction of the village. The men, taken by surprise, ran after me. I easily out-distanced them; it filled me with elation. I had taken my fate into my own hands and would throw myself on Arthur's mercy. I would obey whatever decision he made: whether I was to stay or not. Was it his silhouette I saw in the distance? I could not be sure; I saw him everywhere.

But in my bid for freedom, I had forgotten Nestor.

He easily caught up with me, shouting for me to stop. 

I did not. Futilely, I yelled back, “Go away. I order you.”

“Your father orders me. His last command was to bring you safely back to Rome.”

“Well, you can’t stop me.” 

Nestor wrenched the reins from my hands. I began to scream for the only help I could ever count on, “Arthur, Arthur!”

If he were close, I never knew it. All choice was suddenly snatched from me. Nestor drew his short sword and set it at my throat.

“I have nothing to lose by killing you. Without you I cannot return. The older man, Llud, he was right. Rome will forgive anything but failure.”

He was dead serious. The blade came a little too close for comfort: the unyielding metal resting on my flesh. One false move and I was a dead woman. Nestor would slit my throat without compunction; I would not be the first.

I’d have to play for time, until a chance arose to slip through his fingers. “All right, I give you my word that I won’t try to escape.” The blade didn’t move. “My word as a Roman.” Again I twisted my words; but it would save my life. I had been scorched by fire and reborn like the fabled Phoenix. Already I could no longer recognize the Roman patrician I had been.

Nestor lowered his sword.

Before Nestor could forbid it, I tore a piece from the lining of my coat, and fixed it on a branch of that fateful tree. I had left a part of myself here before; I now ensured that I would leave it all behind me. Perhaps it was a mere fancy; would ‘superstitious Celtic nonsense’ give me back the life I now yearned for?

I rode alongside Nestor; he was looking at me as if I were demented.

********

**Kai's Tale**

The morning she left, Arthur ordered Benedicta's hut to be cleared. Everything she left behind her was burned, but this funeral pyre did not purge Arthur's soul. He looked for a moment at the billowing flames and strode away, his face a mask.

Arthur went mad, I think, but very quietly, as he did all things of import to him. His distress manifested with a silence more awe-inspiring than outward rage or despair. This kind of calm was more frightening than any burst of emotion. I had seen him distraught, controlled, drunk, furious, elated, ironic, remote, sharp, afraid, witty, vexed, brooding, happy and thoughtful – in short, in all the myriad states a man can be found – but never driven by such an agony of emptiness which threatened to tear him apart. What the Saxon foes and the Pict invaders had not managed, a lone Roman woman had achieved.

If I had put my hands on Benedicta's throat right now, I would have wrung her lovely neck. Hers was the wrong name: she should have been baptised _Maledicta_.

********

**Arthur’s Tale**

During the hours of daylight, things were bad enough, but I had so many duties that demanded my attention that my private disquiet was merely another burden be shouldered. When darkness fell, the sharpness of my anguish literally took my breath away; I felt constricted for nights on end, each breath I drew more painful than the last. None of this was sensible, I knew it well, and still, I could not shake this feeling I was slowly being buried alive, screaming all the while, without being heard.

I knew I _should_ not love Benedicta, but I was lost in a world devoid of her; frozen by her absence, like a wanderer without purpose lost in an ice-covered foreign land.

I knew I _should_ not want her, and certainly not need her as I did.

I _should_ be relieved to have avoided being shackled for life to an undeserving, scheming gamester who had toyed with my innermost feelings, then won her game and laughed about it with her Roman friends. Yet, whatever her words, I could not wipe out from my fevered brain her stricken look when she turned away for the very last time; it was truly desperate and held an appeal I had steeled myself against.

So I would get up, pour myself some mead, and gulp it down, hoping it would dull this throbbing ache and induce me to sleep.

********

**Kai’s Tale**

Arthur's fall and his swearing woke me. This was the second time he’d risen this night.

The first time, he’d padded quietly over to the table, poured a draft from the pitcher of mead, drunk it down, and sat on motionless on the bench for endless moments, staring into space. From afar, I had seen his face, dimly lit in a semi-darkness broken by a nearby torch. It was not a pretty sight.

Llud had not stirred.

This time, Arthur had been noisier, stumbling as he made his way to the table, and landing heavily.

I got up, and crossed the room. Arthur was slowly picking himself up from the floor, his bare feet and back gleaming like pale shadows in the half-light. I helped him get to his feet. 

He pushed my hand away. “Kai, my favourite helper!” 

Arthur's voice was slightly slurred. He smirked. “Sorry I woke you again.”

I shrugged. “I could have stayed in my bed if I so wished.”

He sat down heavily on a bench. I picked up the one that had been overturned by his fall, and sat in front of my brother. A few feet away, it was easier to overlook the slight tremor that shook his frame. 

He’d had more than enough to drink; nevertheless he emptied what was left in the jug into a goblet, took a swig, and slammed it down. Then he put a hand to his eyes. “I suppose this is it, then. When I get the 'I told you so' speech you've been dying to deliver for days.” He looked challengingly at me. “Come on! Let’s get on with it, so I can go back to bed.”

“I've no intention of making any speeches.”

“Oh? If you won't, Llud will, I suppose. So spit it out.”

I stayed silent; it stretched between us.

“So, no preaching? You could turn the tables on me. God knows I’ve earned it.” Arthur quietly laughed without any trace of humour, and his laugh was harsher than any cursing would have been.

After another long pause, he went on with a cold, quiet fury, “Do you know what it means to be the leader, Kai? You will know, one day, and perhaps you'll curse the day you met Rowena.”

He took another swallow from his goblet and put it down, this time more carefully. “It means that everyone looks up to you, for everything, every day and every night. That you can never be yourself in the others' eyes, merely the chieftain who is never allowed to err.”

He laughed again, with that terrible sound without any enjoyment. “Do you know what it takes out of a man? No. You wouldn’t know, don’t you?”

He looked intently at me, then his eyes focused on something in front of him, something that wasn’t there. “Benedicta saw _me_. Or so I thought…” He heaved a sigh. “Well, I'm tired and sick of it, Kai. I'm tired, so damn tired, that I don’t know if I can go on. And yet, I cannot end it, I'll have to walk this horrendous path till the day I die because I was put in this place for some reason, and only I can achieve our common goal – at least, better than the others.” 

His eyes were filled with pain and his hands clenched together, the knuckles white with the force of his self-control. In a man who was usually so reserved, who rarely uttered his deeper emotions violently, this was more telling than any discourse.

He was right, anyway. No one but Arthur was so burdened for one so young. Some had called him ‘a man of destiny’. He was, but it pressed more heavily on his shoulders than I ever could imagine.

Arthur was quiet for a time, his eyes were closed and he was struggling to control his ragged breathing.

He went on, speaking more to himself than to me. “You know what? People have been asking me what to do since I was thirteen. The questions came back, again and again and again. And I knew the answers; I was always the one who knew them. You cannot imagine what a burden it is, to be right all the time.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Well, not quite always – as I recently showed.”

He bowed his head and carefully leaned forward, until his forehead rested on the table.

“And, you know what, Kai? Now I don’t know what to do. I really don’t. You didn’t expect that, didn’t you?”

I had known that Arthur was troubled and near-exhausted, but I had not expected such an abyss of hidden despondency. All the things that had pressed on him those last few months – the failed Saxon pact, his head injury, my near demise, and the last skirmishes with the Picts – had taken their toll, till he was left without any more defences to raise. This last strain, Benedicta’s treachery, had undone him.

His voice was weary. “I'm tired of being the one who plots and plans, I'm tired of being the one has to scheme and tell tales, and I’m _dead tired_ of being the one who has to bear it all alone. I can't — no, no longer, I just _can’t_.”

Then Arthur buried his face in his hands and wept. I stood appalled for a moment, then sat down beside him on the bench and put my arms around him while he let go of his pain.

I held him against me and whispered to him, “Arthur… you’re not alone.”

Arthur leaned on me, seemingly without strength to hold himself upright, so I held him like a child, with all the watchfulness and love I could gather.

Eventually he opened his eyes and looked into my face, pushing himself away. He looked at my hands holding him and gave me a puzzled frown which, to my profound relief, made him look like himself again.

He took a steadying breath, and said, “Thank you, Kai.”

I smiled back, “What are elder brothers for?”

Arthur got up and declared, “I’m going back to bed. No need to nursemaid me.”

At last, his steady breathing told me that he had indeed fallen asleep.

********

**Benedicta's Tale**

The journey to the coast was a nightmare. Nestor kept up appearances: deferring to my more minor wishes, but never granting the only one of consequence: I was not free to wander alone. Even when I had to retire for natural needs, I knew that some of the men were lurking around, making sure I couldn't slip away unnoticed. 

I no longer thought about my mother's family. Because of my own improvidence, I didn't expect any help from them. If I had avowed the truth to Arthur, he could have sent word to Cador in Cornwall, of my presence on this soil. My cousin knew I was to embark aboard a merchant ship. Had news of the shipwreck reached him? Was he now sure I was one of the nameless unfortunates who died at sea? He had been eager to meet me, and this retaliation on the despised Romans who had decimated part of his family was not far from his mind when he offered me shelter, in my mother’s memory.

From time to time I fingered the hole in my cloak. That missing piece of cloth was now all that linked me to Arthur. 

This preyed more and more on my mind.

********

**Kai’s Tale**

How I wished for Rowena's presence! Perhaps she would have found the words to alleviate Arthur’s pain. I couldn’t seem to – but the next day, Llud tried his luck.

As Arthur was wandering aimlessly around, distress and misery warring on his face, Llud tackled him.

“Will you ride to the rise above the village? By the woods, caught in one of the branches of the trees, a piece of fine, hand-woven fabric.”

Arthur frowned. He searched into his tunic and retrieved a piece of blue cloth. “I took this from the tree the day Benedicta left.”

“Then the winds have carried another piece from the boat that takes her to Rome. Go and find it!”

Arthur looked at him questioningly.

“And then for the sake of all of us, stick your head in a butt of wine for a week and emerge, not as a moonstruck calf, but as the man who leads us. Go!”

From the threshold of the longhut, I saw Arthur get into his saddle with some of his old energy. He leaned toward Llud and replied, “You never lost your leader, but you still might have to build a new hut for yourself.” 

They laughed.

As Arthur crossed the gates, my father joined me.

“How do you always know what to tell us?”

Llud smiled complacently. “It comes with the territory. But I must admit this chieftain of ours is a stubborn one.”

“No more than I, as you were fond to say.”

“Indeed.” Llud put his hand briefly upon my shoulder. “But you turned out all right.”

I shot him an amused look. “Glad to hear you say it. It must have been arduous, teaching me some table manners.”

“Hmmmm. However, there is nothing like the love of the right woman, or so I was told.”

I shrugged. This banter brought me back to Arthur's misery; I had seen him fondle his infernal piece of cloth for days, when he thought we weren't looking.

“Do you think he’ll be all right?” 

Llud did not answer.

********

Arthur came back reeking of wine and outwardly improved, but I knew he was still maintaining a charade for our sake. We rode, we hunted; we practised swordplay, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

A week later, when we were riding home after a successful hunt, I discarded all pretence and directly asked him: “Are you better now?”

The frankness of the question took him by surprise, but it demanded an honest answer.

“No, I’m not.” Arthur rubbed his eyes. They were still blood-shot from lack of sleep. 

I had heard him toss and turn in his bed at night for hours on end; the sound was more nerve-wracking than his trampling around had been, when he came back from Benedicta’s bed, waking us.

“I’m not, but I will be. Well, as all right as I can ever be.” He stopped his horse and looked earnestly at me. “Tell me, Kai, am I condemned to lose all I ever cared for?”

I cautiously replied, “You haven’t lost it all. There are your people and your family yet.”

“Somehow, it is cold comfort.”

It hurt. I understood his underlying feeling, but nevertheless it did.

Arthur sighed. “Forgive me. I am not myself. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” For a second, the burden he bore daily showed clearly on his face. “Sometimes, I am a mean bastard.”

“You are.” 

He let go a short bark of laughter. “I am, aren’t I? For that too, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. Do something about it, it’d be much better.”

He nodded, and pressed his horse towards home.

Time did him good on the whole, but sometimes, at the weirdest moments, his eyes filled with a remoteness that worried me. If that were to happen during a fight, he was a dead man. Llud watched him, too.

At last, I got word from Rowena that she would be escorted home by Yorath two weeks from now.

She was very well, she said, and would divert her journey with a halt by the sea before coming home. The Jute king would be trading for foreign goods on the coast and had invited her to come with him. He was overjoyed at having a grandson and wanted to thank Rowena for granting him an heir so promptly. 

Rowena accepted, thinking – she said – that as she wouldn’t know for some months yet if she were indeed delivered with a son, it was better not to look gift horses in the mouth and not delay. Would I join them? We had begun the child together, and even if Rowena would have to give birth on her own – this being the women’s plight –, I could at least advise her as to her choice of a present.

Afterwards I understood that we are all playthings in the hands of Fate.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

I had half-hoped to find a real city when we reached Isca Augusta, but it was just a crumbling Roman outpost turned into a wretched town, whose stonework had been looted for centuries before the Celts came back to take possession of the place. There was almost nothing left of the amphitheatre. We passed its collapsing steps while crossing the place. No games would be given here in the near future, if ever. 

Some of the old houses were still standing; the shells of walls without stairs or floors were depressing. But part of the road was still well-travelled, and repairs were done, after a fashion. Most of the buildings were a mixture of planks and stones, some of them obviously stolen from old temples and administrative buildings. 

When you went closer to the sea, the city vibrated with life. The quays and the harbour district were teeming with a busy crowd. People from all over the place met here to barter and exchange news, buy and sell goods. There were some foreigners too, sometimes from far away shores. I even saw an Egyptian man, obviously freezing in this cold weather.

Nestor led me in a remote building situated near the main street: it was in a sad state of disrepair but the roof and walls were still sound. This building was better kept than most I had seen in this town. The first room I went in might have been a fishmonger's shop; you could still see remnants of the counters and the fragments of an earthenware jar, half-buried among broken tiles. Above them, a faded mural of a fishing Aphrodite was covered with rude graffiti. The room still smelled of _garum_ [fish sauce] after all this time. From the back, stairs led into a larger room and an _atrium_ of sort, all showing the result of years of decay. This was a depressing sight.

The house was being used as a tavern and boarding house. I was pushed into a small room, with no way out except the way I had come in. I would not be able to leave it without disturbing Nestor who slept there. The window, barred with planks and ironwork, did not offer any avenue for escape. The air inside was stifling, and there was a very distinct musty smell. The torches and the lamps didn't dispel this gloomy atmosphere.

I sat on a straw mattress, so utterly disheartened that at first I didn't notice the two chests that were piled up in a corner. But as I saw the markings on the nearest one, I began to take heart. I knew them well; I had packed myself some of my belongings in these chests. The lid of the first one had been secured with a heavy lock. This was now broken, but good craftsmanship and the swelling of the wood - obviously kept too long in the water – prevented me from opening it. I had to ask for help. 

As one of the men slid his blade in the split between the planks, Nestor hovered over me. The wood gave way under the pressure. I cried out in dismay.

The chest had contained some of my clothes. The rich silk from the Orient painstakingly brought up from Byzantium, and the gold-embroidered cloths were now a lump of stained and mouldy fabrics, not fit to be used as rags. I took them out, and let them drop on the floor. They lay there piteously, smelling like rotten fish. However, in the bottom of the chest, I found my ivory box; it contained an assortment of combs, mirror and cosmetic jars. The cosmetics were mostly spoiled by sea water, but at least some of them could still be used. 

I hastily wiped the mirror and looked at my face. I hadn’t done so for weeks. I was a fright: somehow I had acquired some freckles and, even in the scanty lighting, some strands in my hair looked as if they had gone white. More than ever, I earned the nickname my mother gave me, _Guanhumara_ , her 'white ghost', because I was such a very fair little girl.

My ‘treasures’ amused and reassured Nestor. As long as I was so self-conscious, he thought I would not be concerned with the rest. He was wrong. It was neither the combs nor the mirror that prompted my curiosity. What was hidden in the thickness of the chest base worried me more; but it appeared still sealed; I would have to remove it later and try to use it to my advantage.

********

**Rowena’s Tale**

Yorath was overjoyed by the news, but my pregnancy meant that I had to put up with some salacious innuendoes in my face; I also overheard him complimenting Kai's accuracy, with some of his drinking partners. I didn't really mind. Kai's prestige would be enhanced by it, even if I quite didn't understand what it really changed in the order of things. Another of those pesky little things women would never quite understand about their menfolk, I suppose.

I had thought my stay would be a breath of fresh air, plunging me again in the delights of my maiden days; it was not so. I was already changed by my life with Kai. Even if I hadn’t previously grasped this truth, it was now obvious to me, as it was to the other Jute women.

Ardra and Esyllt were very eager for news. We spent wonderful evenings gossiping, comparing ways and customs, laughing about some, wondering about others. My pregnancy thrilled them, and they kidded me mercilessly about it. I blushed and grinned a lot, but adamantly refused to tell them the kind of details they asked for.

Among these pleasant talks, some discussions were less friendly. One woman came to me and pointedly asked if I were not worried about letting Kai's bed get cold. I scorned her malice, but underneath I could not help being uneasy. I knew Kai would not mean to stray if he had truly found his happiness; I wholly believed I was his, as he was mine. But knowing the challenge he posed for most of the women, I could not help being a little worried.

Yorath's offer to take me to Isca Augusta with him came as a welcome diversion. It was time for his annual journey to the sea coast marketplace; his party would be loaded with goods and horses to sell in exchange for some of the luxuries we could not otherwise acquire.

In a burst of generosity previously unheard of, my father told me I could choose a present for myself and for my unborn son. For it was to be a son. In his eyes, no daughter of his would stoop so low as to produce a girl. ‘Girls aren't that bad,’ he said, smiling thinly, ‘but boys are the salt of the earth.’ That all mankind was born of woman struck him as a necessary hazard. He still clung to his old prejudices; although he had let me use some of the freedom of a boy, he would not admit I had – sometimes – used it wisely.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

The ship was delayed.

Nestor was incensed at the postponement of his plans, but he could do nothing about it. It is poor judgement to order a sailor to leave anchor without a spare main sail, or enough supplies. He could not command the sea nor the wind, or even the ship master, so he had to give way. Men searched for the appropriate canvas, and set to work. The water casks were replenished; food was also bought and brought on board.

Among all this flurry of agitation, I staged a female tantrum; it was quite impressive, if I may say so myself. I was wearing everything I owned on my back, and I told Nestor I would not sail without a change of clothing. Nestor – now persuaded that I had reverted to my Roman ways, and would return home like a gentle lamb to the slaughter – let me go, under close escort, in what passed for streets in this pigsty of a port town. After all, I had given my word as a Roman not to escape.

Pretending to be docile now I’d got my way, I went out, with a disgruntled soldier, acting as my gaoler, keeping hold of my arm while we walked the uneven pavement.

Seeming wholly absorbed in my choice, I stopped every now and then in front of one of the many ramshackle stalls. The goods were displayed on counters half jutting out in front of the buildings. I examined and spread out some pieces of cloth, complaining that they were crudely hand-woven, poorly dyed and itchy to the touch. It would not do.

Little by little, we left the more familiar part of the town, and got closer to the waterfront. I had seen our ship from afar, and knew where it was, so I went the opposite way. The less men in Caius Camillus’s pay who were around when I made my escape, the better. My escort did not notice. I prayed they wouldn't. The man walking behind me was getting bored and less attentive.

In the middle of the street, a portly bearded man with a very loud voice was arguing with a diminutive merchant who waved his arms in such a fashion that I believed he would take flight. They blocked the narrow street. Trestle tables were set up on the side, leaning on the houses' walls. I went to the nearest one, fingered some fabrics no finer than those I had already discarded, and suddenly flung them in the face of my escort. He had relaxed his guard, seeing me intent on women's interests. The cloth got wrapped round his head, blinding him.

I sped as quickly as I could through the crowd. There were not many people standing in the street to slow down my pursuers, but the narrowness of the passage and the element of surprise worked in my favour. I ducked into a narrow passage that led, between half-fallen walls, to another path. Bales of hays and rolls of goods were piled up in the entrance of a warehouse. The hiding place was too obvious. Frantically, I searched for another.

I noticed some sort of tent erected above an alcove-like entrance. In it, street merchants were calling out the virtues of their poor offerings. I strolled casually to one of them and crouched behind him, seemingly looking at his wares. Those consisted of some clay pots, not unlike those I had seen at Arthur's village. They weren’t worth my close scrutiny but it did the work. The two Roman soldiers sped past. 

When they had disappeared from sight, I got up, and walked leisurely to the next booth. My fair hair was too conspicuous among all these dark-haired passers-by, so in the shadow of the stall, I used a cloth I’d found lying on the ground to knot about my head. Brushing my hands on the walls, I also dirtied my cheeks.

I retraced part of my steps then turned at random. The regular lay-out of the original town had been sorely disturbed when the Romans left; the square pattern was spoilt by huts and fences built at random. A few hours later I had completely lost my bearings, but it meant that my pursuers would lose track of me more easily. 

I found myself on the outskirts of the old town. Trees had found their way between the rubble; roots, more powerful than man’s work, had split and heaved the masonry and made walking more difficult, but I would be more easily hidden in that desolate landscape. From there, I could no longer hear the sea.

I made sure I hadn’t lost my only riches in my precipitate flight; I had secured my combs and my little mirror on me. They were silver inlaid with gold, and would tide me over till I found some way to reach Cador’s territory. I might have difficulty finding someone who would give me enough for them and stay silent about the transaction. The rest I would have to leave behind. I regretted that I could not retrieve my hidden treasure, but it was too dangerous. Hopefully, Nestor would leave it behind with my discarded goods, and I could go back for everything later. If not, my freedom was more important than mementoes from past glory.

I needed somewhere to shelter till Nestor lost heart and left Isca Augusta without me. Deep inside, I wasn’t really expecting that he would, but if he didn’t, it wouldn’t really matter; I was not going to let him bundle me back to Italy, like my mother: completely helpless and without putting up a fight. Days in Nestor’s company had cured me of any childish hope of successfully gainsaying him. If I failed, it would not be said that I had submitted like a coward.

I considered what to do next. Night was falling and the streets were now emptying. I would have to find a hole somewhere to hide in. I scanned the decayed buildings, in the hope of finding some alcove high up I could scramble into. My childhood games with my brother would finally pay off. In my younger days, I had been a fair enough tree-climber, but the encumbrance of skirts had cured me of it. I only hoped I wouldn’t slip down and kill myself falling.

Suddenly hands covered my eyes. I frantically grabbed at them.

“Guess who?” a boyish voice said.

I relaxed and replied, “I’m not good at guessing games.”

The hands dropped. I turned around and saw a brown-haired young man, or rather a boy, not yet fifteen, all long bones and awkwardness. He blushed, I smiled in relief.

“Err, forgive me, lady, I thought you were —“

“— someone else. There is no harm done.”

I was about to take my leave when he enquired, “Are you lost? You were searching the shadows.”

“No, I’m not. Good night.”

As I was walking past him, he seized my arm. “Lady, you should not wander all alone at night. It is not safe.”

“I thank you for your concern, but –”

“No, really, you can’t stay there. Come with me, you can sit by our fire. No one will bother you.”

I hesitated. Fear won. I would be glad of some company. The creeping darkness and the uncertainty of my future suddenly made human company – any human company that wasn’t born in Italy – very appealing.

“Well, I — Thank you, yes.”

The boy led me through a half-standing arch into a passageway. A few minutes later, we reached a camp; men and horses were gathered near two great fires. A makeshift shelter holding chariots filled with heaps of goods had been erected, leaning against part of a house. A young woman, obviously pregnant, was serving food from a cauldron to a big-bellied, bearded man seated in the doorway. Two sentries were positioned near a makeshift fence. The domestic scene soothed my anxious feelings.

One of the men hailed my companion, “Cedric, where were you?” 

Another elbowed the first man. “See what he’s brought? Aren’t you too young for that kind of company, Boy?”

Despite the darkness, I saw a deep blush spread along my guide’s cheeks.

I replied, “And you are way too old for me!” 

They laughed.

The pregnant woman turned her head. “Ah, here you are, Cedric! We wondered where you’d gone.”

“Lagging, as usual, or searching for the wench he saw that afternoon, no doubt!” the bearded man said.

“Father!” the woman chided. She put the cauldron back over the fire and came to us. She was of medium size, very pretty, and wore a circlet of silver in her shoulder-length brown hair.

“Come and sit with us by the fire. You must be cold.”

I sat down, and she presented me with a bowl of some sort of meat broth. I gulped it down; I had not realised that I had not broken my fast since the morning, and I was really hungry. While I ate with more speed than elegance, the woman eyed me with compassion.

“Do you want some more?”

“No. Thank you, lady.” I rose. “I’m grateful for your kindness, but I really must be on my way.”

Cedric, who was seated nearby and was manfully bearing the riling of his companions, turned his head: “Not again! My lady Rowena, tell her to stay, do tell her.”

The woman smiled. “I was about to.” She gestured. “Stay with us tonight. You can sleep with me in the inner room, and leave us in the morning, if you must.” 

My hesitation must have been obvious, because she added “There will be no questions asked.”

I accepted. I was no worse off than before, accepting the offer, and her sweetness was very compelling.

********

By morning, I had learned that my hostess was Princess Rowena of the Jutes, travelling with her father Yorath. They were about to set off eastwards, toward home, perhaps on the following day, for Rowena was waiting for her husband to join her, as they had some purchases to make in the town before leaving.

She asked where I was heading; I merely told her that I had kin in Cornwall, and would attempt the journey there, when the way was safe for me. I didn’t want to disclose more, but I led her to understand that I wasn’t free from worry, and that it would be better for her and hers to let me walk my own lonely road. 

She wouldn’t hear of it, and because I was weak and afraid, and felt safer being surrounded by this crowd, I accepted her kind offer to take part of the road east with them.

“Besides,” Rowena said, “we could inquire about your family. We are allies of Cornwall, Mark in particular.”

Yorath grunted, “I am, Rowena, but you are not.”

The expectant mother burst out laughing, “I _am_. Mark is still congratulating himself on his lucky escape, I think.” She whispered to me, “I was once betrothed to King Mark of Cornwall, but we decided we would not suit.” This was obviously a matter of private reminiscences, for she shook her head ruefully. “And a lucky escape it was, for both of us.”

Rowena turned to me, “Are your people living near Mark’s?”

I had to admit I did not know, having never set eyes on them; I was a kinswoman of one Cador of Cornwall, and knew nothing more about him than our kinship.

“Cador? You’re in luck, then. His son Lancelin will be visiting my brother-by-marriage in the spring. There is talk of a pact. You see, you really must come with us.”

She smiled that serene smile of hers, and I wordlessly mouthed my gratitude to the Heavens; it was too good to be true. I prayed my luck would last.

********

**Kai’s Tale**

Rowena's endearing qualities can be quite infuriating sometimes. Take, for instance, her continuing concern for others of her sex. I wondered what new adversities would befall us now. Some of Rowena's gallant initiatives could lead to trouble. 

Yorath had told me of the stranger Rowena had taken under her wing. This boded nothing good. 

I found them seated in the back, near the chariots; Rowena was tying a bundle of clothes while the other girl held the cloths that threatened to spill over the ties Rowena was knotting. They already seemed as thick as thieves. I wasn't surprised, as I knew about Rowena's easy rapport with her suffering sisterhood. The stranger was wearing a headdress of sort, a kind of cloth wrapped around her hair that entirely hid it. She turned her head, and I beheld her profile: she was none other than Benedicta.

I might have known that she-snake hadn’t been stripped of her fangs! Neither of them had spied me. I dismounted quietly some feet away, and approached them. As Rowena was straightening up, she saw me. A flash of delight illuminated her face, and she threw herself into my arms. Her sudden movement surprised Benedicta who took a few steps back. I had purposely kept my eyes on her; she went a sickly shade of grey.

Rowena did not notice. She was standing on her toes, her arms around my neck, covering my face with kisses. As I failed to reciprocate, she slowly drew back and stared inquisitively at me.

“Kai, what is the matter?”

I pointed to Benedicta, “Who is she?”

“Oh. Her name is Guanhumara and she’s to ride on with Father. She has kin in Cornwall – Cador’s her cousin. He can fetch her from Yorath’s village. Isn’t that propitious that we met?”

Benedicta had not uttered a sound. She was looking squarely at me, with a quiet, haughty stance that redoubled my unease. 

The woman who had prided herself on her Roman ancestry, and who now claimed a Celtic mother was playing a game she couldn’t win. Did she think she would fool me again? Cold wrath filled me; in addition to the tricks she had dealt Arthur, she had tried to manipulate Rowena's generosity. 

“No.”

To say that Rowena was startled is an understatement. As she stood agape, I stood face to face with the Roman princess. “Benedicta.” 

To her credit, the woman stood her ground.

“Kai.” She bowed her head.

Rowena opened her mouth.

“I'll explain later.” I turned back to my opponent. “We are well met indeed. I hoped never to see you again, Princess.”

“The feeling was mutual.”

Once more, Rowena tried to speak. My glare dissuaded her. Her puzzled gaze went from Benedicta to me, and back again.

“So you’re headed to Cornwall, now?”

“Truly, I always was.” Benedicta shrugged, “Nestor changed that for a while, but I – What concern is it of yours, anyway? I won’t set foot in your land ever again. You _will_ be rid of me.”

“I don't care about your future. As far as I am concerned, you can walk barefoot to Hell.” I looked at her squarely. “My main concern is my leader. You wounded him deeply, but that wound has healed. I will _not_ allow you to reopen it.” My tone was final. 

Benedicta wasn't indifferent to my statement; her lips pursed, then she looked at me as if to weigh up my friendship with Arthur, and our continuing ease with one another. When our paths had met in the village, she’d always been on the alert, observing my interactions with him with a great deal of surprise. As a matter of fact, she had watched me warily since I found her in the wilderness.

She whispered, “I know. I often asked myself, how many friendships hold that much trust and understanding. I have not seen the like before, except in stories. But stories are for children, and I thought I had outgrown that.”

“You almost made a laughing stock of Arthur,” I hammered. “His word must not be doubted. Do you realise that if he had made his approaching nuptials a public announcement, he would now stand dishonoured? How can one who cannot trust his own heart expect others to follow his commands? Neither warriors nor allies must be allowed to question his word or his tactics. These never failed before and they cannot now. Not if we are to survive.”

It sank in. Benedicta hugged herself. “I well understand that. I know what leadership entails.” Her tone was bitter. “Power _is_ servitude. I've always understood that.” She was very still for a while, her fingers grasping convulsively her cloak the only sign of her agitation.

“Kai, believe me, I won't try to see Arthur ever again. As a matter of fact, I refuse to. My life now lies in Cornwall, with my family.” She sheepishly shook her head. “At least, with my mother's kinsmen, if they will still take me in. Cador was told of my coming months back. He will give me shelter, mostly to spite my father, I suppose. Cador hates him, and I can't say I'm surprised.”

As she talked, she seemed to gain some confidence. “Rowena told me of Arthur and Cador's plan to make a pact. I won't get in the way. You must trust me! Neither Cador nor Arthur need to know what is not relevant to it. I won’t see Arthur ever again.”

She paused. “I find I now have a great disgust with the world. I no longer wish to be a part of it.” Her voice shook.

Was the woman trying to appease me with her sweet fabrications? I brutally told her, “Next, you'll be telling me that you are of a mind to bury yourself in a nunnery!”

“Perhaps I will. I have considered it. I have many things to atone for.”

“This doesn't surprise me.”

She took a step forward, her hands extended in a wordless appeal. I steeled myself; she was very pretty in that moving gesture, and she certainly knew it.

“I'm not interested in what the future holds for you, Benedicta. All I want is the certainty that you won't come haunting us again, and your pledge to make your stay in Cornwall as unobtrusive as possible.”

She looked at me right in the eyes and quietly said, “I give you my word.”

I looked at her narrowly and, after a few seconds, I nodded, “I’ll take the risk. You will go with Yorath; Lancelin will fetch you to his father from there. Then our roads will part. Forever.”

********

We had reached the borders between Arthur’s territory and Yorath’s. A day’s slow ride separated us from the village, where our road and Benedicta’s would diverge. Benedicta had agreed to accompany Yorath and wait here for Cador or Lancelin. When asked if she agreed with the plan, she had merely nodded, and looked elsewhere. She was very quiet and had kept to herself since we left Isca Augusta, tersely answering when addressed, and speaking only when spoken to.

In the morning, Yorath would go back to his lands, well satisfied with his gains, and congratulating himself on his acumen and shrewdness. Rowena and I would go quietly home. We had set up camp for the night; Rowena and I were a little apart from the rest.

“Take her back with us? Are you blind, Rowena? Don’t meddle!”

My wife looked back imperturbably at me. She was sitting quietly on her cloak, her hands folded on her knees, the picture of quietude and domesticity. A rabbit was roasting over a nearby fire pit. She bent awkwardly and turned it over.

“Can’t you try to understand her a little – and find it in your heart to forgive her?”

I stiffly said, “I do not want to think of her with compassion.”

Rowena sighed. “Really, Kai, she —”

“No.” I sat close to her and looked into the flames. “You weren’t there. She’s a player of games, and she nearly succeeded.”

“Kai, women _have_ to play games. Sometimes, it is the only way we can —” She swallowed. “You know what I mean. The world is very, very hard on women; all women deserve compassion —” Rowena put her head against my shoulder. “— except me, perhaps.” 

“Fortunate woman!”

She looked at me seriously through her eyelashes, “Indeed I am. I’m well aware of that.”

I put my arm around her shoulders, and kissed her brow. Rowena leaned on me with a happy little sigh. “Please, Kai, let her speak her mind, just once. Give her a chance to explain.”

I sighed. “I will, if it pleases you so much.”

But Benedicta was nowhere to be found.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

The place was more than familiar. I had visited it over and over in my dreams – and some of my nightmares. On its lonely spot, the tree towered over the slope, just as I had pictured it. The approaching dusk lent its surroundings a dream-like feel, as if caught in a spell.

I slowly walked up to the trunk and put my palms against the bark; it was rough and scratched my skin when I slowly caressed it. More than the rest, it gave me back a feeling of reality; I welcomed it, torn as I was between wakefulness and nightmare, longing and fear.

The piece of cloth that was torn from my arm was no longer hanging from the tree. I had indeed left a part of me in this place along with it. The remaining part, still with me, was no longer of use to me; can you really live without half your soul? The answer I had slowly put together during these too-long days and nights was not one I wanted to dwell upon; I stretched and placed another piece of cloth where it belonged.

The familiar voice that rang out behind me didn't surprise me in the least.

“So, here you are! You led me quite a merry dance, you know.”

At long last, Nestor, my father's faithful hound, had picked up the scent. I felt only a faint surprise that he hadn't done so before this night.

I didn't turn around, but put my arms around the trunk. It gave me some sense of comfort and supplied the strength I had been longing for. What had Arthur said? ' _The moss takes its strength from the tree_ '?

I inwardly smiled. Ultimately, there was a pattern I was beginning to understand: I had been led here, to this spot, a simple thread in a tapestry so huge I could not see the figures drawn by the weaving. All is a matter of perspective and distance, and I had had no time previously to puzzle about it. On the other hand, I now felt so separate from my own life that I had the necessary detachment to observe the last draw without emotion.

Slowly I turned around. Nestor was alone; that didn’t surprise me either, for he would want no witness to his deed. Would I, too, lie in unconsecrated ground, in a land I would never claim as my own? Join my brother’s shade, wandering for ever in Limbo?

I met Nestor’s glare defiantly. What I read in it was what I expected; he looked like a man who had grown tired of denying himself what he wanted. And what he wanted, here and now, was the annihilation, of both my body and my soul. I was cornered, but he would not have the latter.

He was holding the short sword that had been hidden in my trunk. That didn’t surprise me either.

Nestor noticed my flash of recognition. He smiled his feral smile; his likeness to the old god Mars had never been more pronounced. “Yes, it was well hidden, but you made a mistake.”

I asked conversationally, “What gave me away?” 

“Nothing you did, but when you emptied the chest of all your spoilt clothes, it was still too heavy for what it contained. I took it apart.”

“Excellent, Nestor. My father taught you well. He should adopt you. You are truly a son after his own heart.”

“You dared to rob him of this –”

I could not let him go on. “I didn’t steal it. It is mine. ‘Rome is no longer in Rome, it is where I am.’ Sertorius told that once, too, didn’t he? He was right, so very right. There is no one in Rome worthy to hold it now. Your touch is despoiling it, Nestor, as we speak.”

He looked at the sword. “Do you still believe those tales? These are out of the nursery, for children, and women, and slaves; for the players of Knucklebones. But it will serve its purpose. And it is God’s will that you meet your death with that weapon. It served the Caesar well when we fought here.”

“Even if it was stolen from my mother’s people? It changed hands a long time ago. I was merely returning it at its rightful place.”

“You spent too much time with Greek philosophers, My Dear. Your sophistry won’t save you.”

He advanced a step. To my surprise, I realized that I had involuntarily stepped back as he did so.

I steeled myself; I had to die standing, it was a matter of pride. I owed that to my ancestors, both the Latium peasants and the Celtic warriors. I deliberately moved back until my path was blocked by the tree; I leaned on it, grasping its trunk, and praying that its strength would communicate to me. Nevertheless I closed my eyes: I didn’t want my last vision to be Nestor’s face, but one I held more precious, enshrined in my heart.

The sharp blade that once belonged to Caesar came to nest in the base of my throat. I swallowed.

The pressure subsided. I heard a muffled sound. I started, and opened my eyes. 

Nestor was sprawled at my feet, an axe buried in his back. Behind him, Kai was smiling ironically at me.

I fainted dead away.

********

When I came around, Rowena’s questioning eyes were hovering above me. I felt completely drained; utterly spent.

“You are awake! I was worried. You were so still, so unmoving…”

I tried to sit. She put her hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me back on the pillow. “Lie still. You had quite a fright.”

I closed my eyes. It was very easy to yield before this inextinguishable kindness.

“Twice your husband saved my life. But how––”

“Oh,” she laughed, “Kai is quite good at those sorts of things. He followed you when you slipped away. He hates sneaking females; it makes him nervous, he says.” She rose from her stool, sat on my bed and felt my brow. Her hand felt deliciously cool against my skin. “You can thank him properly when you are better. You need to rest.”

I vaguely looked around me. I was lying in a bed covered with furs, near two other beds. The room was spacious, with sparse furniture, and a clutter of things on the shelves lining the walls. Despite the untidiness, there was a pleasant feel of lived-in warmth in the place.

“Where am I?”

Rowena stood up. “Kai brought you home.”

Before she left me to my thoughts, I hastily told her, “Please, Rowena, I–– I don’t want to see _him_. I could not bear it.”

She turned, “This is very foolish. Why shouldn’t you?”

“Don’t you know what I did?” I laughed bitterly. “I attacked his pride as a man, and his pride as a leader. I did all I could to disparage him and hurt him. He hates me now, don’t you understand? And I –– I just can’t bear it.”

I turned and buried my face in the pillow; it was made of a soft pelt which easily soaked up my tears.

“But at least, you see there is a man underneath the leader.”

“Of course, there is.” I was stunned. “Isn’t that obvious?” I raised my head.

“Not to everyone, and it is for the best. He has to keep apart, you know.”

She smiled, and added, “I just want you to have what we share, Kai and I.” She smiled to herself then included me in her smile. “Don’t misunderstand me, we are both very stubborn, and we do disagree a lot. But the making up is really, really good.” Her hands flew to her belly.

Her levity didn’t deceive me. “Rowena, I –– I feel so ashamed. How could he … how could he _ever_ forgive me?”

From the other side of the bed, Arthur said, “I already have.”

********

**Arthur’s Tale**

As soon as I knew what had happened, I strode into the longhut. Kai's report was as terse and as matter of fact as if he was recounting some survey in enemy territory. There was no obvious emotion in his voice, nothing that could give me any sense of his personal stake in his activities. But before he left me, he slapped me on the back.

I paused on the threshold.

Benedicta was lying in my bed, leaning on her left side, her back to me, intently listening to Rowena's speech; my sister gestured emphatically, then patted her belly. 

It didn’t seem to cheer Benedicta. She curled up on the bed, seeming even frailer than before. The weeks that had elapsed since I last saw her had brought a change, not so much in her appearance as in her posture. Somehow, the defensiveness that had surrounded her like a veil had been ripped away, leaving vulnerability and a gentleness that had previously appeared only in flashes.

She was thinner, her hair was tangled and dirty, and she obviously needed some clean clothes, but she was even more beautiful than before.

When I spoke to her, Benedicta flinched. Rowena slipped by me and left us, as Benedicta faced me; her face turned another shade of white, if it were possible.

Wordlessly, Benedicta sat up; I joined her on the bed and took her hands in mine. She didn't draw back, but stared at them as if she couldn’t sense our intertwined fingers. She didn't resist me when I drew her into my arms and kissed her; her hands hesitantly roamed over me, up into my hair, holding me closer. She was breathing hard, as I was, when our lips finally parted.

I went on kissing her, starting with her lips, her cheeks and her throat. Gradually, I went down to her belly, slowly, joyfully, tenderly, until we were both breathless and shaking. We made love frantically, renewing our connection and our pledge in the worship of our bodies.

We woke early. While we basked in our closeness, much to my surprise, the door was fleetingly opened by Llud who was trying very hard to smother a laugh. He quickly shut it.

“At least, we were covered up,” said Benedicta, her eyes sparkling.

I looked at her, and we both began to laugh.

“Hmmmm. I guess now I’ll have to tell him to build a new hut.”

Benedicta stretched languorously. “I suppose so.”

Something stirred in me; I rolled over, pulling her with me. She sighed and nestled closer.

“I love you, Arthur,” she purred.

“Don’t talk.”

“Arthur, I —”

I smirked. “Woman _do_ talk too damned much, and often at the most inappropriate moments.”

“But there’s one thing I haven’t told you yet: something you need to know.”

“So. What is it?” I smoothed some fine strands of hair away from her forehead. They spilled over me in a shower of whitened gold.

“Wherever you will go, I’ll follow.”

**_Finis (Part IV)_ **

****  
**  
**  
Notes for Part IV  


Carnelian was often used to make intaglios in Roman times. It was believed to enhance love when worn…

Benedicta-Guinevere: In my humble opinion, Benedicta was supposed to be Arthur’s Guinevere when Gila (Rowena) had to leave the series at the end of Season Two.  
Geoffrey of Monmouth told his readers that Guinevere was from an exalted Roman family and was raised in Cornwall by her guardian Cador, so I wove this background into the narrative.  
_Guanhumara_ , Guinevere’s Latin name, according to G. of Monmouth, means “white ghost” or “white fey”.  
As was the custom, Benedicta must have been married at 15-17 years old. She must be about 26 when she meets Arthur.  
I explained Benedicta’s strange behaviour by her lively fear of her father: she had to be fleeing from an awful past to lie as much as she did… Most of what the character says during ‘ _TGfR_ ’ is anachronistic at best!  
I gave her quite a dysfunctional family. However, it is not as unbelievable as it seems, as the _Pater Familias_ had entire power (even of life and death) over his children, and Christianity enforced the old Roman patriarchal society.  
Women were eternal minors: Benedicta as a childless widow could not even inherit her late husband’s estates; they were administrated by her closest male relative.

“…you are of a mind to bury yourself in a nunnery!”: In some versions of the traditional Arthurian tales, Guinevere ended her life as a nun.

There is no Guinevere without a Lancelot, so he makes a cameo appearance: Lancelin is another spelling of the name and I transformed him into Cador’s son.

Gregorius' Court: Pope Gregorius the Great who ruled Rome.

The sword hidden-in-the-chest is (of course) ‘Excalibur’. In my turn, I drew on the legend popularized by _The Last Legion_ (film and novel by Valerio Massimo Manfredi). Excalibur (Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Caliburn) could be a corrupted name for “ _CAES ENSIS CALIBVRNVS_ ” ('Caesar’s sword of steel'). Of course, Caesar being a title most Roman ‘Emperors’ wore, it may not be ‘the’ Caius Julius Caesar, but any of the Julian Claudian emperors or Magnus Maximus would be as good a guess.

“The first time I led him into the throes of passion…”: In Classical Antiquity, Roman sexual practices show that Roman men had to be always active in bed: only women, slaves and inferior male partners were passive. Homosexuality wasn’t frowned upon per se, but a Roman citizen could not and did not relinquish control. If he did, he was less than a ‘man’. With Christianity, sexual intercourse was considered merely as a means of procreation and not for egotistical pleasure. All ‘deviant’ practices were frowned upon.

Nestor is a Greek name; no ‘proper’ Roman man would be given such a name. Mythical King Nestor was the wise adviser of the Greeks who besieged Troy. In their mythical history, the Romans' ancestors were fugitives from Troy, led by Aeneas to the Italian shores. It was logical that ‘my’ Nestor would be a traitor to a Roman princess. He’s (probably) a descendant of Roman people or from the Eastern Roman Empire. Greeks had a reputation for wile and treachery: Roman people were often prejudiced against them.

Massilia: Marseilles. This harbor was one of the main Mediterranean access to Gaul.  
Auxerre (Yonne, Burgundy). The city exists since the third century AD.  
Isca Augusta isn’t drawn from the recent archaeological excavations.

“ _Timeo Danaos…_ ”: Quote from Virgil’s _Aeneid_. It refers to the famed ‘Troyan horse’ and it is said by Laocoon, just before being strangled to death by snakes sent by Athena. 

"Rome is no longer in Rome, it is where I am": A rough translation of the most famous line in Corneille’s play _Sertorius_ (1662).


	5. Knucklebones - Epilogue

**Benedicta’s Tale**

That first morning, when I awoke in Arthur’s arms, feeling as if my departure to Isca Augusta had been but a nightmare, I found myself in a haze of encompassing safety and bliss. It gave me the fortitude I needed to make a full confession. So I disclosed everything to Arthur, to Llud, to Rowena and Kai. I owed them that, at least: my truth, my past, my shame and my hope.

This time I hid nothing, displaying to the blinding light, all the tiny pieces that were missing. One by one, the _tesserae_ were carefully set back into place. Now, my hosts had the complete pattern of that mosaic pavement, to trample underfoot if they so wished.

At my insistence, as was proper, I stood before the leader of the Celts, like a supplicant. Arthur was enthroned in his great carved chair. Rowena sat to his left and Llud to his right.

Kai was standing behind his wife, one of his hands resting lightly on her shoulder, where her hair brushed against it, the other resting on the arm of Arthur’s great chair. Kai’s apparent ease was belied by his fierce stare. It was obvious to me that he was standing guard over his family, and hadn’t relaxed his watchfulness; Arthur’s lieutenant still didn’t trust me at all. Not with Arthur’s heart, anyway.

I felt despair. What would become of me if Kai did not relent? I was suddenly afraid. Afraid Arthur would have to choose between the steadfast affection he bore his Saxon brother and the love he had so generously offered me. Time and comradeship fought on Kai’s side. The young Cupid in my service was but an infant, and his arrows would be piteous weapons, confronted by a Saxon axe. A month ago, I would have wagered all my future on Arthur’s word. Now I just didn't know what to do. Did Kai’s barely concealed distrust of me weight that much in the balance? Even if it didn’t, he could make my life miserable. Besides, I loved Arthur too much to subject him to this constant conflict.

I lowered my eyes, heaved a great sigh, and continued with my sorry tale: my deceptions, my meeting with Rowena and my shock at meeting Kai. When I was done, I closed my eyes, totally spent.

Arthur sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Is that all you have to tell?” 

I still had to tell about the oath I had pledged to Kai; the oath I had forsworn. But as I opened my mouth to disclose it, Kai intervened.

“It is. The rest, you already know.”

I opened my eyes, startled into wakefulness, and saw Arthur and Kai exchange a fleeting glance; Kai looked at me meaningfully, then Arthur slowly got up from his great chair. He stepped forward and deliberately put his cloak around my shoulders. As the woollen folds of Arthur’s cloak fell around me, I clung to him as if he were the only unwavering anchor holding me afloat in a tempestuous sea. Shivering all over, and feeling as if I had been left standing naked in a snowdrift, I closed my eyes again, and nestled my head upon Arthur’s shoulder.

********

That afternoon, when Arthur went off with Llud and a small band of warriors, to check on some report of Saxons scouts passing through the boundaries, and Rowena went on her own to check her household supplies; I was left alone in the longhut.

As I was tentatively sewing myself a new tunic, my light was obscured by a tall shadow. I knew who it was before I looked up. Kai was standing before me, as grim and imposing a presence as only he can be. 

I slowly placed my needlework on the bench besides me. “Kai.” 

“Benedicta,” he answered in kind. He looked at me from the top of my head to my feet with curious deliberation. “Princess …” Kai’s voice fully expressed his disdain for my title – “if your word is worth anything, state it at once! You know of what I speak.” 

I steeled myself. “I know it very well. I made you a pledge that I did not fulfil.”

Kai’s gaze was inscrutable. “Knowing isn’t enough. What will you do about it?”

I raised my chin in a defiant gesture. “I will ask Arthur to send a messenger to my cousin to make my presence known, and then I’ll leave for Cornwall, as soon as it is convenient.” I rose in order to end this unpleasant meeting. “I will request this service of Arthur tonight. Are you satisfied? Can you tolerate my waiting here for Cador’s party?” 

He nodded.

Despondency filled me. Kai _did_ want me to go, and go I would: I _had_ to respect my given word, even if it shattered me. But I didn’t understand the curious flicker of a smile that briefly appeared on his expressive mouth.

Contrary to my expectation, Kai wasn’t finished. He suddenly added, “You haven’t double-crossed me, Benedicta. You never meant to come back here; we brought you along with us. Rowena didn't really give you the choice. And neither did she leave it to me.” He shrugged. “She can be quite persuasive, sometimes.”

Despite my predicament, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. Kai looked so sheepish that the contrast between his forceful stance and his tone – he almost sounded like a sulking little boy – was quite diverting. Rowena had him twisted around her little finger. I could almost understand why the woman was so utterly besotted with my formidable adversary.

The blond warrior towering above me watched me very closely. “Whatever you may think, Rowena has not the upper hand! And neither will you, with Arthur. You’ll find out that his will is quite inflexible.” He snorted. “I wish you much pleasure challenging it.”

What did he mean by that? “I – I don’t understand. I thought you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough!”

He slowly smiled at me. “No, this was just a friendly reminder, Benedicta. But from now on, I want no more lies, no more tricks, and no more weasel words. Never again.”

I tried to speak, but he went on, as if he had not noticed. “I’m not doing this for you, Benedicta. I’m doing it for Arthur.”

“Are you?” I dared not hope …

Kai took one of my wrists in his hands, and looked at it pensively. He was clinching it so tightly that I felt the blood hammering in my arms. 

“Such a pretty hand! Who would believe that it struck so lethal a blow to Arthur’s heart…?” He raised a steely gaze to my face. “If you ever try again to hurt Arthur in any way, nothing, and no one, will protect you from me. Understand that!”

I was still incredulous. “Do you mean – that I can stay?” My heart was beating so loudly that the noise filled my empty head. I felt dizzy with relief. As I tottered, I found myself held in a hard embrace. Kai deposited me on the bench and poured me a cup of water. I gulped it down. My hands were trembling.

Kai was observing me with a mischievous smile. 

I protested, “You played me false!”

“Yes. I wanted to know if you are worthy of Arthur’s love.”

I swallowed back my retort. After all I had done, Kai had been doubly entitled to doubt my word. So I looked him square in the eyes and told him: “Kai, son of Llud, receive my solemn oath that I will be a dutiful and faithful consort to your leader.” 

He nodded. 

I quietly added, as if it were an afterthought, “I love him too, you know.”

Kai’s answer was unmistakable: he smiled, truly and without restraint, and, all of a sudden, I understood what Rowena saw in him.

********

**Kai’s Tale**

Three months after our return from Isca Augusta, I came back earlier than usual from the practice field, and found Rowena in our hut.

As her time came nearer, Rowena was growing more and more fretful. Even if she strove to hide it, I could see it from her inattention, and sometimes jerky gestures. She kept dropping things. That was peculiarly tedious as she could no longer bend over to retrieve them. She got to cursing with particular creativity at her lot, sometimes abusing me and wishing me to Hell: wasn't _I_ the one responsible for her plight? I had to bite my tongue to refrain from answering back that she had been quite enthusiastic during that moment.

I had known that these months of waiting were very hard for a woman, but it took me aback to witness it first-hand. When I applied to Llud for help, he recommended patience and understanding. Patience and understanding! It was easier said than done. Sometimes, I didn't recognize Rowena at all. Even if I understood her fear, I could do nothing to relieve it. All my life, I had acted. In this instance, I was powerless and my helplessness enraged me.

Only the company of Lenni and Benedicta helped her, through sisterhood and their shared plight, I supposed. Benedicta’s belly had also begun to swell. The worst thing was that Rowena didn't want to admit to her misgivings. She had been brought up like a boy, and as a boy-child, she had learned to underplay her fears. But this one came crawling back, at night between us, and grasped her in its fanged embrace. I could not protect her from those attacks: I could only be at her side, and hold her through the night.

As I crossed the threshold, I saw my wife sorting through chunks of meat and adding those she had selected to a cauldron heating over the fire. As she collected the discarded scraps and put them back into a bowl, I took it from her hands, saying, “You should not concern yourself with that task. Can’t any woman help you with it?”

Rowena wiped the sweat from her brow, straightened up and sharply replied, “Kai, as I have told you before, I’m not sick, I’m pregnant! I can take care of our hearth.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

She relented. “I know, Beloved. I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s just that – I mean, it just seems to me that I’ll go on getting fatter and fatter till the end of times, until I can’t move at all. It just seems endless.”

“I know. It seems a long time to me, too.”

She smiled wearily. “Ready to have your wife back, aren’t you?”

I was. I was tired of sharing my bed with that unborn child; it was now taking so much space that it had finally expelled me from it. Rowena had protested I could still sleep alongside, but having her so near and not being able to hold her as I wished finally took its toll. I had taken to a makeshift bed, close at hand.

I led her to the sleeping corner and made her sat down on our bed. “Lie for a while, I can keep an eye on that cauldron.”

“Hmmm, all right.” She obeyed, her eyes twinkling. “At least, you won’t blame it on me, if tonight’s meal is unpalatable.”

I arranged the furs beneath her, so as to ease the pressure on her back and legs. 

She settled back with a little groan. “Thank you. You know, it can’t really be that long, now.”

“Two months, Lenni said.”

“Yes.” As I went back to check the cooking, Rowena called, “Kai, don’t forget to put the vegetables in it!”

I would have forgotten if she hadn’t told me. As her pregnancy progressed, I had taken to doing some womanish chores to help her out, but I wasn’t too keen to learn the finest intricacies of food preparation. I now understood full well why Rowena hadn’t. It was an unbelievably boring task, but the slightest mistake had unforeseen consequences.

When I had done, I strode back to our bed. Rowena opened her eyes, and patted the furs on her right side. “Kai, come here, please.”

I lay down, finding comfort in her nearness. At long last, I ventured, “How was your day?”

Rowena turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “As usual. Benedicta was with me for a while. We had fun.”

“Did you? I'm glad.”

“Oh, yes. I like her very much. She’s so interesting and – but you never really appreciated her for what she is. Why the change of heart?”

This would be difficult to explain. I didn’t try. Instead, I fibbed, “I haven’t really changed my mind: she’s still a Roman. But if she’s good for you, I can overlook that.”

Rowena chuckled. “Oh, stop it! You don’t fool me, you know…” She frowned. “Kai, I don’t need to be pampered like an upset child.” She drew a breath. “I’m afraid, I admit it, but –”

“It’s all right to feel fear, you know.” I hesitated, but went on, “I often do.”

“You?” She propped herself against the pillows, with an incredulous look. “ _You_ afraid? You _never_ look it!”

“Perhaps I don’t. It’s all a trick. Courage isn’t the lack of fear, but the mastery of it… Each time men go into battle, they _are_ afraid their skills won’t be enough, or that their luck will run out.” I smiled ruefully. “Mine nearly did. If not for you…”

Rowena got nearer and laid her head in the crook of my arm. “Is that why you so want to please me – even being friendly to Benedicta?”

“Even I can admit that she had no real choice. You were right about women’s games. Some of them, at least.” I drew her awkwardly into my arms. “Now you can gloat and boast, and mock me with your friends as soon as my back is turned.”

My wife seemed to consider it, then shook her head. “I’d be tempted, it’s true – just to prove you right again!” She laughed. “But I won’t. It takes real courage to admit a wrong, and courage is something you never lack.” She got as near to me as she could with her swollen belly, and sighed. “Damn! I can’t even express my appreciation adequately. This –” she angrily gestured toward her midriff – “is getting too much in the way.”

“We can contrive something, though. Let me show you –”

A long time later, when we got up and checked it at last, we found out that our bloody meal was completely inedible.

********

We ate in the longhut. Benedicta had cooked the evening meal, and her efforts were only slightly better than Rowena’s. Perhaps it was a fair ‘penance for my myriad sins’ – as Rolf undoubtedly would say. In any case, I now had a clean plate; I’d rather suffer a whipping than be forced to swallow another bite of this meat. I settled on bread and some apples: at least, they had not been tampered with.

My eyes locked with Arthur’s. Seated opposite me, he was munching with determination on a very hard morsel of meat. With one glance, we silently shared the same stoical amusement. He swallowed the rest of his mouthful with a cup full of water, Benedicta’s anxious eyes never leaving his face.

Arthur’s consort admitted dejectedly, “It didn’t go very well, didn’t it?”

“No,” I replied in Arthur’s stead. My brother prudently stayed silent.

“Chicken!” I mouthed to him. He chuckled, and answered back in kind, “Better you than me!” Our silent exchange was witnessed by our wives. As Rowena raised her eyes to the roof with a mock pout, Benedicta laughed self-consciously and got up to fetch some of the meat stew left over from the previous meal – the one Lenni had shown her how to prepare, with some modicum of success.

********

**Rowena’s Tale**

As I cleared away the plates, I noticed Llud complacently surveying the domestic scenery. In that room were gathered everyone our hearts held dear. Our eyes met.

I put a hand on Llud’s shoulder. “Looking forward to being a grandfather? New life in the longhut?”

Llud nodded. “Of course! You know it!” 

“It’ll be noisy. You’ll have to help us raise them properly!”

“I’m not yet so old that I can’t teach them a thing or two!” Llud raised his mug of mead, and drank.

I patted my belly, and knew that it was true. Our children would have much to learn: games to play for keeps, wagers and friendly contests. The games their fathers still indulged in. And perhaps, even a draw of dice or knucklebones.

_**Fin.** _

  
**Note for the Epilogue**  


“Arthur stepped forward and deliberately put his cloak around my shoulders”: An old symbolic gesture of protection; this Roman legal gesture was later used in Christian medieval iconography with the Virgin Mary sheltering the people under her cloak.

**Author's Note:**

> Besides wanting to tie up the loose ends in the AotB series, this story also began as a challenge: I established some limitations I would stick to. (I like to play games, too.)
> 
> 1 – Covering most of the episodes featuring Rowena; hers is a wonderful character, but there are some discrepancies in the original writing. For instance, the cooling of Arthur and Rowena’s relationship (between _The Marriage Feast_ and _The Treaty_ ) was never truly explained.
> 
> 2 – Finding a rationale behind the discrepancies in _The Girl from Rome_. In that story, Benedicta’s attitude is a bit curious.  
>  This prompted my version of her background story (very loosely based on some archetypes in medieval fiction).
> 
> 3 – Variations on the theme of games and gambling, especially knucklebones/ _astragaloi_.  
>  Known since Classical Antiquity, it was often played by ‘inferior’ people: children, women and slaves. I turned it into a metaphor for female status in a patriarchal world.
> 
> 4 – Including as many references to Arthuriana as possible.


End file.
